Single Minded Purpose
by Akenaten
Summary: CHAPTER 20. Last chapter. COMPLETE! Please R&R!
1. Default Chapter

Single Minded Purpose

Chapter One: Reflections

Author's Note: Just so you know, this story takes place a month after the conclusion of my previous story "As Insipid As Love." Please R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix and the lyrics to "My Immortal" by Evanescence have been used without permission.

It had been over a month since Bronwyn's death, and rage filled Smith's days now. Rage and hatred toward anything and everything associated with the Matrix. Because of Bronwyn, the two weeks he had spent with her before her suicide had been the some of the best days in his existence. While she was alive and staying with him at the Frenchman's deluxe hotel, he had not minded the Matrix, had not hated it and even actually learned to appreciate its subtle beauty, but since her death, things were completely different.

However, the desire to see Neo again was overpowering and since Bronwyn and his child were now dead, Smith saw no reason to delay setting out to find and destroy his nemesis. No matter what I have to do, no matter where I have to go, I will find Neo again and make him pay for what he did to me, Smith thought to himself. All I need is time. Time to think clearly and subjectively on where to start looking. But where?

What he needed now was to find a human or program who would serve as an informant. Upon reflection, he realized that there was someone in the Matrix who could give him a starting point from which to begin looking. He wasn't a human, but an exiled program like Smith, who had managed to carve out a very comfortable niche for himself; appearing on the surface as a successful businessman, but underneath the poised and polished façade he presented to the world, was a hard and calculating razor-sharp mind, ruthless to the extreme.

Smith had gone to the Merovingian before, when he was trying to discover Bronwyn's location when she had fled the city in order to get away from him. Smith disliked the Frenchman intensely, but was willing to put aside his detestation for his fellow exile provided he got the information he was seeking. However, the fact remained: if you wanted information and were prepared to pay handsomely for it, the Merovingian was the only one could give you what you needed.

Picking up his cell phone, Smith dialled a number and spoke brusquely to the person who had answered it.

"It's Smith," he said, "I want a meeting with the Merovingian, now. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't keep me waiting." With that declaration, he turned the phone off, started his car and drove to the underground parking garage of the building where the Frenchman's very expensive, very chic restaurant was located. As he expected, the generally off-limits VIP express elevator was already at his disposal, minus however, the obsequious operator whose sole duty was to conduct the owners' more favoured clientele from their cars to the restaurant and back again.

The elevator's car was much like the restaurant's interior—built on sleek lines of glass and steel, minimalist and reflective, but costly décor nonetheless. It was located on the exterior of the building in order to provide a spectacular view of the city to its patrons, but Smith hardly noticed. He had much more important things on his mind than observing the scenery. It did not take very long to complete the trip to the 101st floor of this skyscraper—the Frenchman had insisted on speed to his architects and they had easily incorporated that feature in their design of the elevator, and the ride to the top took less than a few minutes.

Even so, the ride could not go fast enough for him and Smith was in a bad mood. The door opened and he stepped out into the darkened and empty restaurant. He strode to the raised head table where the Merovingian was seated with Persephone at his side. She returned his glance and opened her mouth to give her condolences about his dual loss, but thought better of the idea when she saw the look on Smith's face. She excused herself and left her husband to deal with his visitor alone.

Ascending the elegant staircase that would take her to her bedroom, Persephone shivered as if she could still feel Smith's icy gaze on her and she quickened her step to reach her destination. When he had entered the restaurant, Persephone had fully intended to be present at her husband's meeting with Smith, but the look he had given her frightened her far beyond anything she had ever felt during her entire existence.

He looked as if he wanted to kill me, she thought. I _was_ going to say how sorry I was about him losing Bronwyn and his child, but thankfully, I thought better of it after seeing that stare he gave me. His eyes were eloquent enough; if I had said something, I'm sure that if my husband had been present or not, he would have liked to tear me apart.

The death of his child has apparently hit him with more force than even I ever could have imagined, and the rage and grief I saw on his face was something I hope never to see again. Persephone shook her head as she tried to imagine what he must have been going through these last few months but she failed miserably. In addition, to lose Bronwyn like that—she willingly and knowingly jumped to her death rather than remain with him must have affected him deeply as well. I can only hope that the combined pain of their deaths has not been detrimental or corrupted his programming adversely in some way.

All the same, I wonder what they are discussing right now, she pondered as she prepared for her shutdown period. Most programs in the Matrix did not copy the habits of the humans who existed alongside them since they needed no rest, but Persephone had realized long ago that sometimes even a nap would restore her faculties wonderfully.

lllll

"Now that we are rid of the women," the Merovingian said after Persephone had left, "we can discuss matters without any distraction. Please take a seat and have a drink," and with an exaggerated flourish, indicated that Smith could help himself to a bottle of vintage brandy. The Frenchman sipped his wine and watched while his companion filled his snifter more than halfway with the expensive alcohol.

Who would have thought that this former leader of the now-obsolete agents would finally find solace in the bottom of an empty glass, the Frenchman thought to himself. For as long as we've known one another, Smith has always spurned the very thought of consumption of either food or drink. "First, let me say…"

"If you are going to sit there and tell me how sorry you are, then don't bother," Smith snarled. "You don't give a damn and you know it, so spare me your platitudes and artificial sorrow."

"As you wish. Let's get down to business, shall we?" The Merovingian responded smoothly. "I know what information you are looking for and I can help you."

"For what price?" Smith asked, and scoffed. "I've given you almost $80,000 for the pleasure of staying in your hotel. How much are you asking for now?"

"This will not cost you anything, my friend." At Smith's look of sardonic incredulity, the Merovingian sought to explain himself further. "No, I am being completely sincere. I do not need or require more money; I have enough. There is only one thing that not even all of my millions can buy. "At Smith's puzzled expression, he continued. "Foresight. The ability to see what's going to happen next and forestall any unpleasantness that might be in my future."

"The Oracle," Smith stated, his fingers tightening around the stalk of the brandy bottle as he poured himself another generous amount in his glass.

The Merovingian nodded. "I wish to see as she does: I want her eyes. Think of the possibilities, Smith! She can see the future and whoever controls her, controls the entire Matrix."

That is true, Smith thought, but if _I _was the onewhocontrolled her, then I would be able to pinpoint Mr. Anderson's location at all times. I could predict his every move, and everything he might do to escape me. I wonder if perhaps his very thoughts would be accessible to me; what an intriguing possibility. I would hold his fate in my hands, deciding the best punishment for what he did to me all those months ago. The chance of being able to play God, to decide if his adversary should live or die, was a heady thought and Smith allowed the pleasure that that ability would bring to flow through his system unchecked. However, eventually, I would deliver him to his doom and Zion, without their messiah, would be helpless and fall to the might of the Machines. But all of this will only occur if _I_ controlled her, not the program who is sitting in front of me.

Once I have her power, I will use it for myself; I will certainly not let _you_ have it, Smith thought as he listened to the prattle of his host.

"There is a former employee of my wife's that might have the information you seek. As you know, the rebels do not make it a habit to appear in the more affluent areas of this city. This informer now resides in this area and I have learned that she has seen some of the more, shall we say, unusual attributes and physical capabilities that they display in order to escape capture by agents."

He's long winded as usual, thought Smith with a growing impatience for his host to get to the point.

"Anyway, if you go to a particular bar whose location I will give you and if you show a photograph of either Neo or Trinity around, you will be able to find her. I leave it to you to figure out what she looks like. She likes to keep in the shadows and it may be difficult getting her to open up. She has some issues with the rebels of her own and once you gain her confidence, she may decide to help you. However, I think you might appreciate the challenge. I know that you thrive on them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Challenge, my friend, challenge is what keeps you going. That is the reason you were obsessed with Ms. Delaney—she was unobtainable. She rejected you time and again, _n'est pas? _Her constant rebuff of your attentions only fuelled the fire of your passion. The more she rejected you, the more you wanted her. You are a conqueror, a predator. It's all about the thrill of the chase."

Smith nodded to his host and rose from the table, heading for the elevator.

"Oh, and one more thing," the Frenchman said and waited for Smith to turn around before continuing, "your informant's name is Sarah." Observant as he always was, he noticed the tremor that rippled through Smith's body at the mention of that name before the impenetrable mask once more veiled his guest's inner turmoil.

On the ride down to the parking level, Smith was angry with himself. Why did I let that pompous French pouf see what that name meant to me? Sarah. He knew that that was to be my daughter's name when she was born and he deliberately mentioned it in order to provoke me, to see what my reaction would be. And in retaliation for that little stunt, I will double-cross you the first opportunity I get.

The first time he had heard the name that Bronwyn had chosen if her child had been female was during Bronwyn's recuperation after her arrival at the hotel….

"_Is there anything I can get you before I leave? Anything you need?" Smith asked._

"_Yes, your absence," Bronwyn spat angrily, struggling to get out of bed and stand up, but her body was not as strong as her spirit and Smith knew that if she succeeded in getting out of bed, her body was too weak to support her and she would fall. Smith walked over to her bedside and prevented her from attempting to get out of bed with gentle but firm physical persuasion. "You are still too weak, Bronwyn, you need to rest."_

"_Take your hands off me, Smith! Let me go!" she demanded as she fought and struggled to get out of his arms; grief gave her a brief spurt of strength and she pounded her fists against his chest in a attempt to find some way of dealing with the gaping hole in her heart and soul that would never heal. However, as he had expected, after a few moments her strength began to falter until she was too tired to fight him any longer. _

"_Why? Why did she have to die? Why couldn't you just leave me the hell alone?" Bronwyn cried, her face buried in Smith's shirtfront. "You killed her and I hate you! Sarah would still be alive if it wasn't for you!" _

"_Sarah? Was that the name you had chosen for her?" Smith asked quietly, his arms enfolding with great care the petite woman had carried his unborn child for almost eight months._

"_Yes," Bronwyn answered, her voice was muffled and weak; her sobs were lessening now, for it costs a grieving mother a great deal of physical and emotional strength to mourn a lost child, and strength was something she did not have a surplus of. _

_Sarah, Smith thought as he continued to hold Bronwyn in his arms, resting his cheek on her hair. What a beautiful name…_

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Smith murmured to himself, getting inside his car and he sat there for a long time, listening to the complete and utter silence of the car's interior until he could not stand it any longer and turned on the radio for the first time.

_I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone,  
But though you're still with me,  
I've been alone all along._

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears,  
When you screamed, I'd fight away all of your fears,  
And I've held your hand through all of these years,  
But you still had all of me. 


	2. Searching in a Cesspool

Searching in a Cesspool 

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix.

Smith drove to the bar that the Frenchman had suggested his informant might be found. The bar was what most people would call a dive, and it was the kind of establishment the more respectable citizens of the city stayed away from. When he entered the doorway, he wrinkled his nose in distaste as the combined odours of cigarette smoke and the strong smell of stale urine from a nearby men's room assaulted his nostrils.

This place is a cesspool, he thought, and the corners of his mouth turned down in severe displeasure at having to even cross the threshold of a place such as this. But, however repugnant this place was, he knew that he had to overcome his revulsion if he wished to discover where Mr. Anderson and his companions met. His instinct told him that the people who came here did not open up readily to strangers, let alone a man wearing an Armani suit; in order to encourage them to tell him what he wanted to know, a generous financial incentive would definitely make his task easier. The quicker I find my contact, the sooner I can get out of here.

He purposefully walked to the bar and handed the bartender a one hundred dollar bill on top of a photo that had been taken from the surveillance camera of the lobby that Neo and Trinity had demolished before their rescue of Morpheus from the custody of Jones, Brown and himself. Before he had even arrived at the club's location, Smith had already determined that he would first show the photo before asking for anyone by name. He would not ask for the name of his contact until he was sure that the Merovingian had directed him to the right place.

"Have you seen either of these people?" Smith asked. The sight of a man in an expensive business suit flashing around C-notes was not a common sight in that establishment and it wasn't long before there was an interested group of onlookers around him, each peering at the photo in their turn and every one of them shook their heads.

A woman on the outer fringe of the group that was now clustered around Smith insinuated her way next to him. He did not miss her sudden intake of breath as she saw the photo. When he met her gaze directly, she shrugged as if she had recognized nothing and walked away. He took a stool at the end of the bar and followed her with his eyes, and when she sat down at a table, he continued to watch her.

With mild curiosity, he saw as she took what appeared to be a photo out of her pocket and gaze at it, a sad and forlorn expression on her face. She stroked the face of the person in the photograph with an abstracted thumb before returning it to her pocket when she heard the approach of the man who came in her direction.

"Break time's over, Sarah," a scruffy-looking, unshaven man wearing a dirty shirt said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Get back to work, before Max sees you."

So that's what she looks like, Smith thought, narrowing his eyes and taking a good, long look at her as she returned to her duties. Now that I know who she is, I will not forget her in a hurry. He turned back to his drink, but always keeping her in his sight and within his range of hearing.

At the end of her shift, she was frightened and a little surprised when she saw Smith leaning against his car, which was parked directly in front of the club entrance. "What do you want?" she asked in an undertone, looking constantly over her shoulder to see if anyone was within earshot.

"You know who those people were in the photograph I showed you, don't you?"

She nodded nervously.

"Can you tell—"

"Not here!" she hissed in a whisper, still glancing around. "Someone may be listening."

"Where can we meet then?"

"We can't. I can't afford to be seen with you. It's too dangerous for me and you could get into serious trouble if Max finds out."

Smith ground his teeth together in frustration. I finally found someone who knows something, and she is too afraid to talk to me. He reached inside his pocket and quickly wrote his cell phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "If anyone asks, just tell them the truth--that I gave you my number. Call me. Or better yet," he said, thinking quickly, "I'll come by tomorrow night and see if we can't get together then."

She nodded and melted into the shadows.

lllll

The next evening, Sarah could not say she was surprised when she saw him at the bar again. She smiled to herself and went forward to ask for his drink order as he took his now-customary stool at the end of the bar, well out of earshot of anyone near him.

"What'll it be?" she asked him, trying to act for the benefit of anyone watching that he was just another customer and she was just doing her job.

"Brandy."

She shrugged and walked away. Smith knew it was probably a good idea if he ordered each drink separately for that would enable him to converse with Sarah each time she replenished his glass.

"I need to talk to you," he murmured through almost motionless lips. "If not here, then you tell me when because I will come here each and every night until you do."

Sarah looked into his face and saw that he meant every word he said. "Who the hell are you?" she asked, puzzled as to why this immaculately attired man was so determined to speak with her, "and why are you so damn interested in me?"

"Who I am is not important, but what I want is. I was told by your former employer that you might have certain information that I require."

"The Frenchman said that?" she demanded, looking at him narrowly. Something about him was very familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it. "I did work for his wife for a long time, but she fired me a couple of months ago."

"I need to talk to you about the people in the photograph I showed you, it's important."

"Fine," she replied curtly. "But the only way we can talk is if you drag me out of here." At his puzzled look, she explained more fully. "My boyfriend, Max, is not a good person to piss off and he sees me as his own personal property. That's my own fault, I guess, but it's too late to change that. We get along all right, but if there is one thing he likes better than having me is getting his hands on money."

Sarah was interrupted by a boisterous cheer than suddenly emanated from the far corner of the room. Smith turned to look and saw a large, overweight man seated at a table and it appeared that he had won yet another match in the manly art of arm-wrestling. Smith's mouth curled upward in a smirk as he turned his attention back to Sarah.

"When I challenge Max to a match and after I win, I will demand that you leave with me."

Sarah gaped at him, astonished. "_After _you win? You are pretty damn confident, aren't you? Do you know that he has never, _ever_ lost a match? He's been unbeaten since long before I met him."

"So you think that I am no match for your friend?" Smith asked her. She hesitated to answer and when she briefly sized him up, she shook her head with a slight smile.

"Look, no offence, but Max is almost twice your size and he outweighs you by at least 75 pounds if not more."

"But when I win, will you come with me?"

"Sure." As Smith got up to leave, Sarah put a small hand on his arm. "Are you _sure_ you wanna do this? I mean, I've seen Max take down a lot larger guys than you. You could get hurt."

"I can handle myself." He saw the dubious look in her eyes. "You don't believe me? Perhaps this will convince you. Will you hand me that phone book?" he asked. She obliged and watched him curiously as he held the book in his hands not as if he was going to open it, but across the top. With a sudden movement, he ripped it in half lengthways and smirked at her reaction as he handed the two pieces of the now ruined four-inch thick Yellow Pages back to her.

"How the hell--?" she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise and Smith saw raw admiration in their depths.

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Do you still think I won't be able to beat him?"

"Hell, no! I mean, yes. Max won't know what hit him." And it's about time too, she thought, that fat bastard seriously needs to be taken down a peg or two and if this guy can manage to do it, I'll gladly follow him anywhere.

With Smith at her side, Sarah walked over to where Max was holding court over the usual bunch of hangers-on that surrounded him after a particularly satisfying win. His eyes fell on Sarah. "Yeah, what do you want? Ain't you supposed to be working?"

"Max?" Sarah said nervously, stealing a sidelong look at Smith. "This guy—gentleman—would like to challenge you to a match."

Smith sneered subtly and waited until the guffaw that broke out after Sarah's statement to die down before he spoke. "I challenge you to arm-wrestle with me. If you win, you may have the keys to my car, my weapon and all the money I have. But if you lose, I get to take her home," Smith jerked his head to where Sarah was now sitting. "Agreed?"

"What is so special about Sarah, _Mr-I-Wear-My-Sunglasses-At-Night_?" Max asked Smith mockingly. "Why would you want to sleep with _her _anyway? I mean, she's so skinny, _I_ have bigger tits than she does, for Chrissake!" He laughed at his own joke, and several of the people surrounding the table joined him. Sarah flushed in humiliation and lowered her head so that no one could see her face, but Max neither noticed nor cared. "I've got other girls here that would be happy to—"

"I've seen what's _available_," Smith said with a slight curl of his lip as his eyes raked over the overly made up but scantily dressed woman who was fawning all over Max, "but they don't appeal to me in the slightest. _She_ does, however."

Max shrugged. "No problem. Whatever floats your boat, pal, it's all the same to me. How much money have you got, anyway?" This was going to be the easiest dough I've ever made, Max thought smugly. This pencil-necked bean counter has no idea who he is dealing with.

Smith pulled his billfold out of his jacket pocket and threw it on the table, followed by his Desert Eagle and the keys to his Audi. Judging by the thickness of the roll of bills that was now on the table, Max estimated that his opponent was carrying upwards of at least three or four thousand dollars. This was going to be the easiest dough I've ever made, Max thought smugly. This pencil-necked bean counter has no idea who he is dealing with.

There were impressed murmurings as each item was placed in full view of all the observers who were now crowded around the table, watching the two seated combatants.

"Let's get this over with," Max growled as he stretched out his brawny arm, his elbow resting on the table. Slowly and deliberately, Smith removed his jacket and folded it neatly before giving it to Sarah. "Will you hold this for me?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers and a look of unspoken understanding passed between them. She took it from him, giving every show of reluctance; she had a part to play and she knew she had to perform it convincingly enough in order for Smith's plan to work.

When his shirtsleeves were rolled up, Smith grasped Max's hand and the match started. The smirk on Max's face vanished when he felt the strength in Smith's grip. When he and Smith began, Max came to the realization that, for the first time, he would lose. With a jerk of his hand and a sneer on his lip, Smith sprained Max's wrist. A collective gasp of shock rippled through the onlookers, but Sarah was too late in suppressing a snicker.

Reclaiming his property from the table, Smith rose and took Sarah firmly by the elbow, propelling her from the room. "A deal is a deal. You are coming with me," he snarled, giving her no time or opportunity to argue. "Get in," he ordered, after opening the passenger door for her and she got in without a word. The tires of the Audi squealed on the pavement as its owner floored the accelerator.

To anyone watching, the scene had had the look of a woman being roughly dragged from a bar, but once inside the car, Smith's attitude and demeanour changed immediately.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Not really, but I sure could use a drink," she replied. She looked out the car window and frowned. "Where are we going?"

"To your old place of employment, _La Verite_."

"We can't go there!" Sarah protested. "I got fired, remember? If I show my face there after what happened, either _he_ or _she_ will make sure that I get thrown out on my ass!"

"No, as long as they see that you are with me, they will do nothing of the sort, I assure you," Smith replied easily.

"Why are you so keen on going there?"

"The Merovingian has had many firewalls installed and all exiles who go there are safe from the upgrades."

"I suppose," she said reluctantly. "But I'm not dressed properly—there is a dress code and it's _very_ strictly enforced."

"If anyone says anything to you, let me deal with them."

Once inside the parking garage, he parked the car and escorted Sarah to the VIP elevator. They were not the only occupants as two women got on with them. With disdain, they glanced at Smith and his companion.

"My, my," said the eldest of the two in a barely concealed whisper to the other, "standards are certainly falling for this place, wouldn't you say, Marsha? It seems that they are letting just _anyone_ in these days."

For the second time that evening, Sarah felt humiliated, but Smith was true to his word. "Any woman who would even think of wearing last season's Magli shoes should refrain on commenting on the appearance of others." He turned his head and looked at her in a manner that made her blood seemed to freeze in her very veins. She blanched and swallowed nervously, drawing the fox fur stole she wore more closely around herself, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped. Once the elevator doors opened, she scurried out, her friend Marsha behind her.

"Thanks," Sarah said, giving Smith a grateful smile. But you can't protect me from the stares I am going to get when everyone sees how badly I am dressed, she thought, idly wiping her hand on her clothes in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. While I was working here, if any woman showed up in a tee shirt and jeans, she would have been escorted out before she barely got to say hello to the maitre d'.

With a hand in the small of her back, he guided her to a table that was next to a window and when the waiter came for their order, Smith ordered his usual snifter of brandy while Sarah ordered a glass of red wine. Surreptitiously looking around, she was aware that many glances were being directed her way.

Once their drinks arrived, Smith went straight to the business that had brought them together. "You've seen this man and woman before, haven't you?" Smith pressed.

"Yes, I've seen them. I hate them," Sarah said angrily, "more than you could ever know, and if you want to kill them, then I will tell you everything I know. I don't care if you or I get to them first but I want them both dead."

Smith looked at her and saw in her eyes a passionate hatred for Neo and Trinity that easily matched his own. "What did they do to you? Why do you hate them so much?"

"My fiancé was a security guard at a Federal government building downtown. One day, these two came in and went postal, shooting Danny and all of his co-workers in cold blood. They didn't even give him a chance to draw his weapon. After they were done, they somehow got a hold of a helicopter and crashed it into another building, but I don't know too much about that. Since then, I've been trying to find out where they are, as well."

"What have you found out?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. But I did see them once…." She broke off, uncertain how to continue. This man would think I'm a complete nutjob if I told him what really happened that day, she thought.

"What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, trust me."

Smith leaned forward even closer. "Nothing surprises me anymore. Try me," he said. When she didn't answer or respond, he took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. "Please tell me."

Sarah sighed. "OK, you asked for it. I saw them once outside an apartment building and followed them; not close enough so that they would suspect me, but close enough so I could keep tabs on them. They went into an old warehouse or something. I slipped in a side door, but they didn't see me. The phone started ringing in one of the offices and I saw one of them pick it up and listen…."

"And?"

"Almost as soon as they put the receiver to their ear, they disappeared. They _disappeared into the goddamn phone_! One minute they were there, and the next, they were gone!"

"Have you seen them recently?"

"Last week. Something big was going down, I think."

"What makes you say that?"

"There were more of them than usual." She scoffed. "They try to blend in, but everybody around here knows they don't belong in our neighbourhood. They usually dress in leather, with these long black coats that go down to their ankles. _Nobody_ down here dresses like that. All of them wear sunglasses all the time, even at night and they all carry guns."

"Have you ever seen their leader?"

She nodded. "He's a big, bald African-American guy seems to be in charge. I'm not sure of his name, though. It's Mor—something, if that means anything to you."

"Morpheus," Smith snarled.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Where do they meet?"

"There's a dead-end alleyway at the side of a derelict building and it's not far from here, but two guys with guns usually keep a lookout."

"How did you know they are armed?"

"I was curious about why all these people keep meeting at that particular location and one night when I knew they were there, I pretended to be drunk, lost, and looking for a party. I managed to open the door and they shoved these guns in my face and told me to piss off. That's how I knew. Christ! Look at the time," Sarah exclaimed, looking at her watch. "It's past 11 o'clock! What am I going to tell Max?"

"Tell him the truth—that I only wanted to talk, but don't tell him what we were talking about."

"Don't worry I won't. Besides, I don't think he'd believe me anyway."

lllll

From his vantage point at the high table, the Merovingian watched Smith and Sarah conversing with a curious eye. It should be very interesting to see what her brother will have to say if he ever saw you in her company, he thought as he raised the glass of wine to his lips and drank.

I will not be the one to tell Seraph his sister was here with Smith tonight; let him find out on his own. Although, I do have to admit that I would very much like to see his reaction. If you had remained loyal to me, Seraph, or should I refer to you as _Judas_, I would have seen to it that you were informed immediately. But after your defection? I think not.


	3. A Decision is Made

A Decision is Made 

Disclaimer: The Matrix is not mine.

Smith drove Sarah back to her place, opened the car door for her and escorted her to her apartment. They both stood outside the door of her apartment for an uncomfortable length of time. Sarah was embarrassed and at a loss to provide any conversation. "Would you like to come inside and maybe have a cup of coffee or something…?" she asked awkwardly, making a clumsy attempt at small talk.

"Why are you asking if I wish to come in? Did you really want to become intimate with me?"

"No way!" Sarah stated emphatically without thinking. When Smith looked at her with a raised eyebrow indicating his displeasure, she hastened to cover her blunder. "I mean, wasn't that the whole point of challenging Max like that, so you could sleep with me?"

"No. I just wanted information and the only way I could get you to myself and find out what you knew was if I beat your friend in that contest and made you leave with me."

Sarah grinned. "You didn't just beat him, you kicked his butt. How the hell did you do that thing with the phonebook? I've never seen anyone other than an Agent do something like that."

Smith jerked his head up sharply. "An Agent? What do you know about Agents?"

She shrugged. "I've seen them. Why? Why is that so important? A lot of us know about agents." At his surprised look, she continued. "I am a program, too. I knew what you were one of us the first time I laid eyes on you. Are you an exile as well?"

Smith nodded.

"You better not let the upgrades find you—they can be pretty persistent in tracking down their targets. In fact, that's what I thought you were and that's why I didn't want to talk to you at first."

"Why were you exiled?" Smith asked.

"I used to work for Persephone; you know, the Merv's wife?"

"I know her." Who doesn't know her, Smith thought sardonically. Just about every good-looking adult male program that catches her eye has known her in what the humans refer to as the "biblical" sense, and if the rumours are true, a good portion of the women have shared her intimate favours as well. "How long ago did you leave?"

"A couple of months, maybe more. My brother told me that I'd be relatively safe here for a while. It's not too bad, I guess. I keep my head below the upgrades' radar and so far, they haven't found me. Yet. But I know it's only a matter of time. Until then, I try to get along with the humans as best I can."

"What about your friend, Max?"

Sarah chuckled, and Smith found the sound pleasing. "He is not one of us; he's a human."

Smith raised his eyebrows.

"He doesn't know I am a program and I'm not sure his brain could handle it if I told him the truth. He's not exactly the sharpest pencil in the drawer, if you get my drift."

"All brawn and no brains—yes, I am familiar with the type," Smith drawled lazily, and he could not help thinking about Jones. If I had left him and Bronwyn alone, she would have given birth to our daughter by now and both of them would still be alive, Smith thought miserably. But that is neither here nor there. It is in the past and cannot be undone, no matter how much I wish it could be.

Sarah noticed Smith's preoccupied look from the corner of her eye, but she said nothing. It had been a while since she had had the opportunity to speak with another program, let alone a fellow exile as friendless as she was and she found that she rather enjoyed his company.

Unlike Max or any of his friends, this man was intelligent and had no desire or interest in her body. It was a nice change to speak to a man whose gaze was focused on her face, not on how small her chest was. His only interest in her seemed to be in what information she had and for the present, platonic companionship with him suited her just fine. However, if the time came when he would like more from her than just information, she did not think she would be opposed to any other ideas he might entertain.

All in all, it was a refreshing change to be able to have a nice, normal conversation with someone without watching every word she said in case she let something slip about the Matrix...

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me why I was exiled, or even my name for that matter," Smith said at last.

"I respect other people's privacy and I don't ask questions." Besides, I already know who you are and what you were, Sarah thought to herself.

"However, with regard to your offer, no thank you. But I would like to see you again, if that's all right with you? There is more I need to know."

"Sure, I'd like that. You know where to find me."

He nodded before turning and going back down the stairs. Sarah watched him leave, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. So he really did just want to talk. In the bar, Max and everyone else there thought that he wanted to take me home, and I _know_ that they all thought he didn't mean to take me to my door and leave me here.

Once inside, Sarah sat on her sofa for a long time, thinking about this mysterious and potentially dangerous man that had entered her life, albeit temporarily. Smith had not told her his name, but she already knew it—every program in the Matrix had heard how that human, Neo, had destroyed him. Smith. A mere human had actually defeated the most feared and well-known of all the agent programs the Matrix had ever conceived of. The news of his demise had flashed through the Matrix grapevine with almost the speed of light and just about every single program knew it less than an hour after it had happened.

I should have realized who and what he was the minute he ripped up that phonebook, she thought absently. Now, for better or worse, he is involved in my life and I have to face facts: he will be a tremendous help finding those two humans who took Danny away from me. It certainly won't hurt having an ex-agent on my side, that's for sure. Sarah's preoccupation with Smith had engrossed her attention so thoroughly that she was not aware that Max had entered her apartment.

"It didn't take him long to get off, did it?" Max said snidely.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked abruptly.

"I mean, I saw the two of you come in here and less than 10 minutes later, he leaves and since he announced to the whole bar that he wanted to take you home, what else am I supposed to think he wanted to do with you?"

Sarah uttered a noise of sheer disgust with Max's crude remark.

"Well, if he didn't want to sleep with you, then what the fuck did he want?" Max demanded.

"He only wanted to talk, that's all."

"Talk? Uh-huh. I waited outside until I saw him leave. Anyway, that son of a bitch sprained my wrist, but he didn't break it."

"I'm glad," she said, with no trace of sincerity in her voice. You deserved what you got, you fat pig. Now _you_ know what it's like to feel pain, she thought grimly. Smith should have ripped your goddamn arm off. She looked over her shoulder and saw Max standing there, his wrist bound up in a tensor bandage.

"You laughed at me in front of my crew, Sarah."

"_Crew_?" Sarah mocked. "Who do you think you are, Tony fucking Soprano? Aw Max, c'mon babe…" She knew what was coming and wanted to forestall him and his intentions for as long as she could.

"Don't _c'mon babe_ me, you little bitch. This guy takes me down and you found it _funny_?"

"Well, you have to admit it was a little weird, right? I mean, this guy certainly didn't look like he could last two minutes with you, let alone beat you."

Max strode over to her and with his left hand, he twisted her arm painfully. "It's not so funny when you are the one feeling it, is it, Sarah?"

She struggled helplessly against Max's superior strength and fortunately, her antagonist's injury began throbbing painfully to the point where he gave in to it, releasing Sarah's arm and when she began rubbing her wrist to relieve the pain, he raised his hand and gave her a powerful slap across her face.

This is not over, Max thought viciously as he watched her sink to the floor. Once my damn wrist gets better, I will make sure you get what's coming to you. His wrist gave another painful throb and he stormed out the door leaving Sarah kneeling on the floor.

When the pain lessened and Sarah could think coherently again, she reached inside an inner pocket of her jeans and took out the piece of paper that Smith had given her and without a second thought, dialled his number.

"Yes?" Smith asked.

"I will give you more information, but you have to help me in return. I think we should do this as soon as possible."

"Where should we meet?"

"How about here, my place?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow night, around 6, is that all right?"

"I will be there."

I sure hope I'm doing the right thing, Sarah nervously thought to herself as she hung up the phone. She idly rubbed her wrist. God knows my life can't get any worse.

lllll

The next evening at the pre-arranged time, Sarah let her visitor into her apartment. Once they were seated, Smith decided to break the ice and be the first to instigate the conversation. "The other night when I first saw you, you had a photograph in your hand and you were crying. Who was in it?"

"My baby. He died shortly after he was born and that picture is the only one I have of him."

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose a child as well." A year ago, I wouldn't have cared or been the least interested, thought Smith, but because of the events of the last month, I know exactly how she feels. I envy her, for at least she got to hold her child and say goodbye. Because of the actions arising from my own stupid jealousy, I lost both my child and her mother. "She died and it was my fault," he said, slowly.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"I have to warn you, it's not a pleasant story. Do you still want to hear it?"

She nodded. "But only if you want to tell me. If you don't, it's OK, I'll understand."

"I raped my child's mother and that is how she became pregnant. In August, it will have been a year ago when I assaulted her."

Sarah looked appalled but said nothing.

"She ran hundreds of miles away two days later," Smith continued, "I wanted to see her again, but found out that she had gone. Once I knew that she did not terminate the pregnancy, I went to the city where she was living and found her."

"Did you love her, the mother of your child?"

"Not at first."

"Would you have followed her if she hadn't been pregnant?"

"I don't know. I suppose I will never know the answer to that. I followed her _because_ I discovered she was pregnant with my child."

"What happened?" I already know the story, Sarah thought. Every program in the Matrix knows what took place between the two of you, but I want to hear it for myself, from you, first.

"I learned that she had taken up with a former colleague of mine and that they were living together, perfectly willing to pass off my child as their own." The anger and jealousy Smith still felt because of Jones' involvement was never far from his thoughts and instinctively, his hands curled into tight fists. Calming himself with an effort, he continued his tale. "One night, I went to their apartment and I confronted Jones, we said what we had to say and I deleted him. I found Bronwyn in bed, we had a violent argument and that's when she lost our baby." The part about his and Bronwyn's subsequent two-week stay in the Merovingian's deluxe hotel was something to be kept private; never to be shared with anyone. "And what about your child? What happened?"

"As I mentioned, my fiancé was a security guard in this particular building. Anyway, I was still working for Persephone at the time and I was almost 8 months pregnant."

That's how far Bronwyn was along when she lost our baby, Smith thought before turning his attention to Sarah's account of her own loss.

"We were really busy in the cash office that day, so I didn't hear about the shootout until an hour or so later." She bent her head and stared at her hands that were tightly clasped in her lap. "When I found out that Danny had been killed, that's when I started having contractions. My son was several weeks early but the physician/programmers thought that he would pull through, but he didn't. My brother took a picture of him for me, and it was that picture that you saw me holding."

Sarah went into the kitchen, brought out two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and handed one to Smith.

"I propose a toast."

"To what?" he asked curiously, taking the bottle from her.

"To us. To a mother and father who, for one reason or another, never got to know their children."

"I'll drink to that," said Smith sadly, as he clinked his bottle against hers and took a drink. He would never admit it, but the current topic of conversation was unpleasant and brought up nothing but painful memories. For now, you know all you need to about me and we shall discuss a subject that is just as painful to you, Smith thought. "Max hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. What do you mean?"

Smith grabbed her wrist and pushed up the sleeve of her cuff and the yellowish-blue bruises Max had inflicted shone vividly against her fair skin. "Don't lie to me, Sarah, I'm not blind. In addition to hurting you physically, he abuses you emotionally as well. I heard what he said to you the night we met. I was there, remember?"

Sarah took her hand out of his grip and pulled the sleeve down to cover the incriminating marks Max had left.

"Those aren't the only bruises you have, I see," he said, looking pointedly at her. "When did he give you these ones on your wrists?"

"About 10 minutes after you left me here. He had just come back from the hospital and his wrist hurt. He was still mad as hell that you beat him but since you had gone, he took his anger out on me."

"Did he ask you anything about me?"

"He wanted to know who you were and where we went after we left the bar."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth—that you just wanted to talk, but I don't think he believed me."

"Why do you stay with him when he treats you like this?"

"Because as long as I stay with him, I'm safe from the upgrades, that's why. If Max gets rough once in a while, it's a small price to pay to make sure that I don't get a bullet between my eyes. I figured the upgrades wouldn't be willing to come into this part of town unless they could help it. I'm sure they have more important things to do than waste their time with me." Sarah scoffed and turned her face away when Smith looked at her.

"Can I ask you something, Smith?"

"Of course," Smith replied easily. So she knows who I am, he thought. I should not find that surprising after all, for what program in the Matrix has never heard of me?

"This woman that you had a child with, what was her name?"

"Bronwyn."

"What kind of program was she? What was her purpose?"

"Bronwyn was not a program. She was human."

All the breath was knocked out of Sarah and she could only stare at Smith in stupid incomprehension. "She was _human_? But you had a child with her, you told me yourself just now. How can that be? No program has ever managed to reproduce with a human."

"Nevertheless, it happened."

Sarah's face went white. "But you told me that you raped her and that's how she became pregnant."

"Yes."

Sarah gulped as the realization of his words imprinted on her memory data files. Smith had raped a _human_? Even for him to become intimate with one went far beyond the boundary of acceptable program/human relation rules. Programs were severely discouraged from fraternizing in the physical sense with the humans that shared their world. And if Smith in his capacity as an Agent had done so…Sarah unconsciously closed her eyes as she imagined how the now-deceased human woman known as Bronwyn had suffered when she had been raped by a program, and an Agent program at that. If he can rip a phonebook in half with no effort at all, then what must he have done to that woman, Sarah wondered. The brutality of that forced union almost went beyond Sarah's comprehension.

Smith saw with apprehension how Sarah drew away from him. Perhaps she thinks that she is in some danger from me herself right now, he mused. After all, we are completely alone together with no one to interfere. She is my only hope of finding out where the rebels have been meeting and I must not lose her now that I am so close to finding them. No one else has the information that I have been searching for except her. I must do all I can to quell her fears about her personal safety.

"I am not going to hurt you in any way, Sarah."

"But what you did to that poor woman….how _could_ you do such a thing?" she asked, her blue eyes filled with hurt and shock.

"I know what I did was wrong, but it is too late to change the past. But out of our union came something completely unforeseen and wonderful: our daughter, whose name was also to be Sarah. However, with regards to your assisting me, I will help you resolve your present difficulties with Max. If you help me, then I will help you. What do you say?"

Everything in Sarah wanted to get up and run and never look back, but after the scene with Max, she realized that she now had access to an unexpected advantage: the assistance and protection an Agent program would be a tremendous help to her domestic situation indeed.

"All right, I'll do it. But I have to know something and you'd better be honest with me or the deal is off," Sarah said, her eyes hardening as she gave Smith a cold look.

"Certainly. What would you like to know?"

"Was this Bronwyn the first woman you have assaulted?"

"No, she wasn't."

"So you've raped other women before?"

"Yes, but only humans."

Sarah started, visibly shocked and puzzled. "You mean you have never…? 

"Raped a program? No, I have not." Smith leaned back in his seat. "So you see, you need not have any fears that I will harm you."

"If you do try to hurt me in any way, my brother will kick your ass. He may not have the strength of an Agent program, but if he gets pissed off enough, he will certainly give you a run for your money."

"I understand. Then we have an agreement?"

She nodded. I am probably going to regret this, but I have to get free of Max and the sooner the better, she thought with trepidation as she rose from the sofa. "Come on, we may as well get started tonight. I'll take you to where I've seen the rebels the last time."


	4. Vigil

Vigil 

Night after night and nothing but failure. For four consecutive evenings, Sarah and Smith had come to this abandoned and condemned apartment building and waited in the kitchen of one of the units, for it was only here that gave the best view of the door at the end of the dead-end alley. All that stood between Smith and his nemesis was the formidable steel gateway and the two well armed sentries who guarded the secrets of the rebels of Zion.

It had been over 3 hours since their arrival at their vantage point on this particular night, but there was no activity of any kind in the vicinity.

"So, tell me about this brother of yours," Smith asked, breaking the monotony of he and Sarah taking turns staring out the dirty window at the alley that faced them.

Sarah smiled. "He's not my brother and we are not related; if you knew him, you would see that we do not look like each other at all. It's kind of hard to explain what our relationship is."

"Just give me a for example."

"OK. He was programmed to serve the Merv and I was programmed to serve his wife. Technically, I am not his sister in any sense of the word, but because we had been created at the same time, we had been naturally been drawn to each other like any other older brother would be with a younger sister. We grew up together and we had no one else but ourselves to depend on and we took it from there. I was even given a feminine version of his name."

"You and your brother have a very intriguing relationship, indeed. I would like to know more. Tell me everything."

Sarah did so, eager to pass on her affection about her brother to a willing listener. For a long time, she told Smith everything he wanted to know and answered all of his queries. It did not matter to her that some of his questions were direct and could be interpreted as downright nosy, but she did not care for she was extremely flattered that such a well-known and famous program as Smith actually took an interest in her and what she had to say. Not only that, but also the more time she spent in his company, Sarah found him more attractive and charming; in her naïveté, she saw no harm in telling him what he wanted to know.

"What was his purpose? I mean, what did he do for the Frenchman?"

She frowned. "I don't really know, but whatever it was, he must have been very good at it because he made a _lot_ of money. I always kept asking him what he did, but he would never tell me. I guess it was really bad because it was the only thing he never confided in me about. Anyway, a couple of years ago, he went to see the Oracle and she told him who-knows-what and later that same day, he quit working for the Merovingian and started working for her, becoming an exile in the process. Just like that."

"How have things been between you lately? Do you see him very often or keep in touch since you became an exile?"

Sarah's face clouded over and Smith could tell that the topic was a painful one, nevertheless, she answered anyway. It seemed that her brother had been very distant from her for the last year or so. Sarah did not know or understand the reason behind his sudden estrangement, but it had hurt her deeply.

There are too many coincidences here, Smith thought, furrowing his brow as he considered everything Sarah had told him. If what I suspect is true, then I have just been given a golden opportunity to even the score with a program that cost me much wasted effort and time in trying to apprehend him. When we were still agents, I often complained to Brown and Jones that trying to capture him was like trying to catch a ghost. I should have realized it the minute she told me: the feminized version of Seraph is Sarah.

However, I should have remembered that if you want to catch something, you must make it come to you. Find out its weaknesses and exploit them until you have the advantage. That is precisely what I intend to do, for second to my hatred of Mr. Thomas A. Anderson is that of her brother. Sarah does not know what Seraph did for the Merovingian, but I do; and when that information comes out, I am sure that she will not be pleased if she has to hear it from me first.

There are more ways than one of getting information out of someone, Smith thought as he glanced at Sarah from time to time. Beating them took too long and I learned through trial and error that as I tortured those in my custody that anyone, human or program, would tell me anything I wanted to hear so I would make the pain go away.

Agent Brown had been correct when he once told me that to get the information you needed, sometimes all you had to do was ask the right questions and the answers you sought would come. I found out exactly what I wanted to know about Sarah and her past by getting her to tell me everything about herself with a minimum of effort on my part.

Since she's been exiled, she has been very lonely with no other programs to talk to. Seraph has been too busy guarding the Oracle; helping her groom "The One," so that he can fulfill his destiny as the saviour of Zion, to pay attention to his sister. As a result, Sarah was left neglected, alone and all but abandoned by her brother. All it took to get her to open up was appear that I was interested in her--ask her a few questions, apply the right amount of charm, and I had all the answers I wanted.

I know she did not lie to me for I am a highly skilled interrogator, Smith thought with more than a little pride and I have not lost any of my skills in being able to tell if someone is being untruthful. I am certain that Sarah has told me all she knows, to the best of her limited ability.

From what Sarah herself had let slip during his inquiries, Smith had had the impression that it had been in the last couple of years that Seraph began to see her with more feeling than was proper towards someone he had always thought of as a sister. From her beginnings as a gawky and gangly girl, Sarah had grown into the attractive and sensitive woman that she was now and that Seraph had seen her transformation.

However, the best crumb of knowledge Smith had gained was when she had told him that since she and Seraph were what one might call twins, they, like their human counterparts, were able to feel some of the emotions that the other was experiencing. I would not be surprised if her brother was able to tell if she was happy or excited and if this includes sexual pleasure as well, Smith thought, it would be the perfect revenge on Seraph--for _no_ brother likes to know that an older and unscrupulous man such as myself is taking advantage of his sister.

Seated on the rickety chair that still remained in what once had been a kitchen, Sarah watched with increasing anxiety as Smith, consumed in his dark thoughts of vengeance, paced back and forth in the dim and dank room, his passage stirring up small clouds of accumulated dust from the dirty floor.

"I guess they are not going to show tonight, so how about we come back tomorrow?" Sarah asked. At last, Smith stopped his relentless progress to and fro and pondered what she had said. "Perhaps you are right," he acquiesced reluctantly before glancing at his watch. "The rebels try not to jack into the Matrix when it is this late anyway. We will try again tomorrow night."

"Wait!" Sarah shouted, her finger pointing at something outside. "There they are! I told you they met here, didn't I?"

Smith rushed to the window and looked out. Sure enough, there were a group of several rebels and as Sarah had said, all of them were easily identifiable as definitely not belonging in this neighbourhood by their attire. Smith eagerly scanned their faces and recognized two of them as belonging to the ship _Prometheus_, while another belonged to the _Hammer_. He turned sharply as an unfamiliar sensation struck him. It was as if a part of him was down there in the dirty alleyway, but how could that be possible, he wondered when my other selves are nowhere near this area.

The feeling grew stronger and Smith watched with narrowed eyes and sharpened senses to see who would emerge from the sturdy steel door at the end of the alley. His teeth ground together and his lip curled in anger as his optic sensors found their target: Neo. His former adversary waited until the door opened once more to let his captain and good friend, Morpheus to come out. Smith let out a low growl as he stared down at the two humans who had, in their own ways, caused him to be destroyed and fragmented to oblivion.

Mr. Anderson stopped conversing with Morpheus and turned his head, staring in Smith's direction at the window where he was standing. Smith quickly stepped back from the window to escape notice, but he continued to watch as the human scan the neighbouring empty windows searching for him and after Morpheus asked him a question, Neo shrugged his shoulders and the two men briskly departed the area, going to, Smith had no doubt, their exits.

When the alley was empty again, Smith turned from the window and walked quickly out of the room. Sarah had to run to keep up with his long, purposeful strides and she was out of breath when they reached the building's entrance. They had only one more intersection to cross before they reached Smith's car, and he reared his head up suddenly and stood still, as if he had heard something.

It wasn't long before Sarah heard it for herself—the sound of shouts and running feet in the distance followed by the occasional shot from a weapon.

"Damn it," Smith cursed, "It's the upgrades. They must have seen Mr. Anderson and the others and are now chasing them." He looked at Sarah and saw the fear in her eyes and it didn't take much thought to see what was on her mind: if the upgrades were not fortunate enough to get their human prey, they would gladly settle for her capture; after all, she was still an exile.

"Oh my God, don't let them find me, Smith!" Sarah begged, grabbing his arm in panicked desperation. Smith realized that there was no way Sarah would be able to escape them if they gave chase for she did not have the speed or training to elude her pursuers. But perhaps there was another way….

Smith communicated with the nearest of his other selves and ordered him to distract the upgrades if they came near either Sarah or himself. The order was confirmed instantaneously and Smith was informed that the ruse had worked—the lead upgrade, Agent Johnson, had risen to the bait and along with Agents Thompson and Jackson, was hot on the heels of a duplicate whom they mistakenly assumed was Smith himself.

For the time being, his informant was safe, but just to be absolutely certain and in the unlikely chance that the upgrades could track her down, he pushed Sarah by her shoulders into a small recess in the wall. "Follow my lead," he hissed, as he placed his hands around her waist and drew her to him so that they were face to face, her back would be against the wall, and covered by his. True to her part, she wound her arms around his neck and drew his head down so that to anyone who might be watching, the scene had the appearance of a couple who were busying themselves in a fevered, frenzied amorous encounter up against a building.

Had it been any other program that was holding her, Sarah could have sworn that Smith was doing his best to feel her up: his hands had slid from their original position from around her waist to the curve of her hips. Slowly, his hands went upward to her forearms, with the palms of his hands feeling the outline of her breasts through her shirt. She felt her nipples harden from the unexpected contact and knowing that he probably felt her reaction as well, she tried to act nonchalant and not notice that anything had happened.

"Are the upgrades gone?" she whispered. A chill raced down her entire spine when Smith replied in the affirmative; she had not realized that his lips were in such close proximity to her ear until he spoke and she cursed the frailties of her human form when she realized that her nipples were completely hard and her nether region was tingling with arousal. In addition, it certainly did not help matters when she felt his knee being placed between her legs. Trying to cover her embarrassment, she struggled to push him away from her. He resisted her intent and when she still did not stop trying to get away from his embrace, he became angry.

"Stop squirming, Sarah! They may be still in the area. Let's wait a few moments longer to be sure." The sound of his deep, soft voice in her ear quickened her pulse and made her heart pound with anticipation. Adrenaline surged over and through her entire system from the nearness of her escape as well as her present predicament of being firmly pressed against a wall by the handsome but lethal ex-agent, and feeling his body completely pressed up against hers made her almost dizzy with excitement. Goose bumps made her shiver, and Smith could feel her entire body trembling beneath his hands. From the very beginning, he had been completely aware of Sarah's reactions to his presence and actions and he found the situation as well as her response quite titillating.

In the meantime, it should be most interesting to see if I can get to what humans call "second base," he thought to himself. "Sarah," he murmured, locking his blue eyes with hers. He saw her swallow nervously as she realized he intended to kiss her. Smith took Sarah's face between his hands and she gave an almost inaudible whimper of anticipation. She was so close to him, he could almost taste her lips already. Less than an inch separated them and she would be his…What would Seraph do if he saw us right now, he wondered. Assuming that he is like any other brother who had a beautiful, gullible, and let me be honest—none-too-bright sister, I have no doubt that he would fight to defend her honour, especially from me; and, he himself is beginning to feel a very un-brotherly affection for her. From what I have been able to ascertain, she does not feel the same for him, to my very great luck.

The shrill chirping of Sarah's cell phone interrupted them. "Let it ring," Smith said, his voice hoarse. "Don't answer."

"I have to," she replied, breathless and panting from the passion she was feeling. "It could be important. Hello? Oh hi, Seraph."

Smith ground his teeth together in frustration as he stopped listening to the one-way conversation Sarah was having with her brother. Damn that interfering idiot, he thought. Just as I am about to get a piece of her, _he_ has to call at exactly the wrong moment. Smith shoved himself away from the intoxicating warmth and nearness of Sarah's body and stood in the alley while the current object of his desire was conversing with her brother.

While waiting for Sarah to complete her conversation, Smith cast his thoughts back repeatedly to the moment earlier in the evening when he saw Mr. Anderson again. Now that I know with absolute certainty where the rebels meet, I must now plan what I must do and how to proceed before they decide to shift their quarters and I lose them again. His mind flashed back to the day that Mr. Anderson had destroyed him. It was in 'The Heart O' the City hotel, and if I am correct, it is not far from here. I did not have my earpiece when I saw the Architect, so is there a possibility that it could still be there, lying in that filthy hallway outside Room 303? I _must_ find out.

Sarah had finished her conversation and was putting her cell phone back in her pocket when Smith walked past her and once again, she had to hurry to keep up.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business," he snapped.

Sarah stopped and looked at him, stunned and hurt. "Well, let me come with you…" she began, but Smith cut her off.

"Find your own way home, Sarah," was the last thing he said before he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight.

lllll

Smith walked into the hallway where his demise had taken place and immediately spotted his earpiece on the floor. Stooping down, he picked it up and stared at it. There was a fine film of dust covering it, but other than that, it looked the same as it did the last time he had worn it. Who would have thought something so small could be so enslaving, he thought. I was a slave to the Matrix and I was chained to it by this little piece of plastic and wire. I went wherever I was told and I did everything I was told to do. I had no independent thought and I performed no independent action. But I am free now and I will never let myself be caged again.

As he continued to stare at his earpiece, his thoughts drifted back to what had happened earlier in the evening. With a sudden jolt, Smith realized that it had not been a coincidence that Neo had looked toward the very window where I was, hidden in the dark: somehow, he knew I was nearby. Just as I knew he was there, he was just as aware of my presence. Mr. Anderson sensed my existence earlier tonight, but he doubted what he was feeling; he does not believe that I have returned. Not yet; but he will. When he has this in his hand and can feel it for himself, he will believe. However, that time is not yet—by now, he has already returned to Zion so I must wait for the right moment before I reveal myself.

He pocketed the instrument of his bondage with the Mainframe and left. There is nothing more I can do here tonight, he thought, but if I am fortunate, I can still catch Sarah and if I appear to be contrite and apologetic enough, we can continue where we left off, only in a more suitable and intimate setting. She will be no different than any other program I have taken in the past, but the fact that she is closely attached to Seraph, the conquest of her will be so much more satisfying and pleasurable because I know that this will hurt him very deeply. And to have Seraph worrying and wondering what I am doing to her is just the beginning of his pain, for sometimes even thinking about what can happen to a loved one, is worse than the actual deed itself.

I need not actually harm Seraph to make him feel pain; from my own recent experience I know that emotional anguish can inflict more agony that all of the worst tools I had at my disposal during those countless interrogations I performed when I was an agent. I have learned that physical scars heal in time, but emotional ones never do. They remain with you always.

My first priority is to complete my business with Mr. Anderson _et al_, but in the meantime, I will amuse myself by using Sarah in a way that will have the Oracle warning Seraph about my intentions. Or perhaps she already has, for as I was just about to kiss Sarah, he called and ruined the moment.

Now that I know where the humans meet, I really do not need her assistance anymore, do I? However, the opportunity to torment one of my greatest adversaries is something that I will not pass up.

It is unfortunate that she is not still a virgin, for the enjoyment of being her first lover would have made the conquest of her all the more sweet and Seraph's agony all the more intense. Still, I must take what I can get. She is a little thin for my taste, he thought. Bronwyn had been much shorter than Sarah is, but at least she had the advantage of having curves and a more womanly figure in general. To be sure, Sarah's bosom is much smaller than Bronwyn's, but her legs are longer and would wrap themselves quite nicely around my waist as I thrust myself inside of her.

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation when he thought of their imminent encounter. She is so young, I should be ashamed of myself; however, because of her youth, her body will be firm, ripe, and ready for the taking. Sarah may not have the experience of knowing how to please a man, but I will be most eager to instruct her in the finer points of having sex with a former agent of the Matrix, he thought, a wicked grin spread over his face as he chuckled to himself.

He was still quietly laughing when he started his car and went to look for Sarah.


	5. Smooth Operator

Smooth Operator 

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix.

Author's Note: To all of my readers: thank you for waiting so patiently for this chapter—it was very hard to write and I couldn't have done it without the support of my very good friend Cecilia. You gave me the confidence I needed when I needed it and there were a few times that I needed to have my butt kicked into gear and finish this chapter, and you gave me that too…I owe you, dudette.

Warning: this chapter contains a hot and descriptive sex scene between Smith and Sarah. Enjoy and tell me what you think—PLEASE R&R!

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"SHIT!" Sarah cursed, as she helplessly watched the bus she had been running to catch pull away and proceed down the street. It had been the last one of the evening and now she was forced to walk home. C'mon girl, she told herself, you've walked home before; this will be nothing new. However, it was still a long way back and I'm not going to get home standing here on the street. Besides, she thought to herself, it is not like its raining or anything.

As if on cue, the dark skies above opened and it began to pour. The falling moisture was cold and it wasn't long before Sarah felt it soak through her clothes, chilling her skin until her teeth started to chatter. She hadn't bothered to wear a jacket that evening for she had been sure that she would be getting a ride home from Smith, eliminating the need for any outerwear. Yeah, I was sure wrong about that wasn't I, she grumbled to herself, looking glumly out into the solid sheet of rain. How was I supposed to know that that jerk would just abandon me like that? I'm not going to get home if I just stand here, and she resolutely started on her long journey home.

Damn that Smith for leaving me here like this, she fumed angrily. Who the hell does he think he is anyway? He never would have found that meeting place on his own and he knows it, yet he has the nerve to treat me like that. _Find your own way home_, he said. Goddamn that smug bastard with those gorgeous blue eyes of his. I hate him! But deep down inside, she knew she felt no such thing. And there I was--eager and anxious to have him kiss me….Hell, if Smith had wanted to fuck me up against that wall like a ten-dollar whore, I wouldn't have said no.

She had been so absorbed about her unpleasant predicament that she had not noticed that a sleek, black Audi had been following her until she heard a deep, masculine voice call her name from the passenger side window of the car.

"Would you like a ride?" Smith asked.

"No, I can get home just fine. Don't trouble yourself about me," she snapped, as she continued to walk.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he said, injecting just the right amount of concern into his voice to sound convincing. Damn it, he thought, what can I possibly say to get her to come with me? Hastily, he accessed his human relations subfield to find something conciliatory enough to say that would make her change her mind; and he found it, an obscure file on the correct and most effective phrase a human male would use in the same situation: "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

It worked. Sarah stopped walking. She was listening at least, and that was saying something. He owed her more than that, and she waited for his apology proudly.

"I behaved like a jackass back there and I know it. It's just that I was upset at seeing _him _again and I wasn't thinking straight. Please come inside, Sarah, so we can talk."

She grudgingly nodded her acceptance before opening the passenger side door and getting into the warm, dark, and most importantly, dry car. She was not aware of how cold she had been up until this point and she shivered as her body responded to the warmth of the car's interior.

Smith eyed her sidelong and took in her bedraggled appearance with one glance. "You should change and get into something dry," he remarked.

"I know, but my place is across town. I can wait."

"No, you can't," Smith stated firmly. "You have to get out of those wet clothes now. Besides, my place is a lot closer. We'll be there in less than five minutes and once we dry out your clothes, I will take you home."

"All right," Sarah agreed. The feel of her wet clothes against her skin was uncomfortable and she longed to get out of them and be able to feel dry and warm again.

They drove to Smith's new place of residence. After Bronwyn's death and burial far away from the reach of the Machines, he had returned to this city and had realized that he needed a place to use as not only a base of operation, but also somewhere where he could think and work without interruption in quietness and solitude. When he first acquired it, he had given no thought to furnishing it beyond what he needed, but after meeting Sarah, he decided to have it furnished just in case she ever had to come and see him.

Smith had had enough money at his disposal to live in the best area of town, but he decided not to draw attention to himself by living in a part of town where everyone knew everything about their fellow inhabitants. Instead, he had taken lodgings in a quieter, though still upscale neighbourhood that was close to every amenity the city had to offer, while still ensuring that his privacy would be respected. All things considered, it wasn't a bad place he now called home.

When they arrived, he manipulated the Matrix so that a fire burned merrily in the living room fireplace. Sarah held out her cold hands towards its heat and Smith had excused himself for a moment. Shortly afterward, he returned and through the now-open bathroom door, Sarah could hear running water. "I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of drawing you a hot bath."

"Thank you, Smith," she said, relieved and surprised at his thoughtfulness and consideration for her needs. "But where did you learn to do that? I wasn't aware that that had been programmed into an agent's database."

"You'd be surprised what information the Architect programmed me with," Smith said knowingly. You do not have to know that I retrieved that information from Jones' files when I took his programming as my own, he thought to himself. Up until that time, I had not been aware that Jones had performed this particular intimate service for Bronwyn on more than one occasion; and had even joined her in the bath several times. Smith felt his groin tighten when he felt and realized how stimulating and erotic it had been for Jones to see the woman he loved in the bath, completely nude except for millions of fragrant bubbles. As well, the sensation of running his fingers and hands through her soapy hair as he washed it for her was highly sensual, to say the least.

Digging still deeper through Jones' database, Smith was even able to retrieve a file that contained images of Bronwyn shaving Jones; the experience was so realistic Smith thought he could feel her breath against his own cheek …

_Bronwyn ran her fingertips over Jones' jaw playfully as they dawdled in the bathtub together. The water was still deliciously hot and neither wanted to leave its warmth just yet. "You definitely need a shave, former Agent Jones," she said, with a provocative twinkle in her eyes._

"_Really?" he responded in kind. "And why would that be, I wonder?" he said, taking her by the waist and pulling her closer to him, deliberately brushing his raspy cheek against her neck, making her squeal in delight. He knew very well of course, that touching her sensitive neck with his unshaven chin had that effect on her; and as he expected, her nipples were fully erect when he brushed his fingers against them. "You haven't answered my question Bronwyn," Jones said, his lips against her ear as he nuzzled her again._

_When he looked at her face, he was surprised to see a blush suffuse over her face, making even her ears turn red. "What's wrong? Was it something I said?" he asked, immediately concerned._

_She ducked her head from his unrelenting stare and he raised her chin so he could look into her eyes. _

"_No, you didn't say anything, it's just that…" Bronwyn paused, unsure how to tell him what was troubling her._

"_Just what?"_

"_OK Jones, you asked for it. It's just that sometimes when you don't shave and you eat me, it kind of hurts on the inside of my thighs, that's all. It scratches me."_

_Relieved, Jones sighed. "If it bothered you so much, why didn't you tell me before now?"_

"_I don't know. I just thought it was embarrassing."_

_Jones leaned back. "All right, woman. Shave me," he ordered teasingly._

_Bronwyn spread his knees until she was able to sit between them, her hands resting on his shoulders. Leaning forward, she kissed the end of his nose before running the tip of her finger across his lips. Her feather light touch tingled against his skin and Jones opened his mouth a little wider so she could tease his mouth further. However, her focus was not on solely touching his mouth; she had other things on her mind._

_Gently, she massaged his neck and Jones let out a sigh as the relaxing movements made him feel better. When Bronwyn was convinced that his neck muscles were loosened up to her satisfaction, she slipped her hands down his forearms, kneading the muscles as she went. However, it did not stop there. _

_Resting her hands on his knees for a moment, she then slid them up his thighs. Jones could feel his penis stir and then harden almost to full attention when Bronwyn leaned forward so that the tip of her hot, wet tongue leisurely invaded and explored the curves and swirls of his ear; her heavy and warm breath sent shivers down Jones' spine until he could bear it no longer and his hands pulled her body against his hungrily…_

Smith knew what had happened next; and not wishing to witness yet another intimate encounter between Bronwyn and Jones, he shook his head sharply to clear it and found Sarah looking at him quizzically, although she said nothing about the strange look that had been on his face. "But my clothes are still wet and I won't have anything to wear until they are dry."

"Don't worry about that. When you are ready, you can hand your clothes to me through the door and I will give you something to cover yourself and keep you warm until I can get them dry," he said as he escorted her to the bathroom. She disappeared and handed her clothes piece by piece to Smith through a crack in the door.

"Sarah?" he called, as he absently rummaged through the sodden pile of clothes he held on his arm.

"Yes?"

"I think you had better give me _everything_ you were wearing. You are soaked to the skin and you won't be able to get warm properly if you are still wearing wet underclothes."

She blushed as she understood his meaning, but she realized the logic of what he was trying to say and she could not look at him when she handed him her brassiere and panties.

"There are lots of towels; don't hesitate to use as many as you need and the duvet will be outside the door. You can wear it when you come out," Smith said before he turned away from the door and went to the liquor cabinet and poured a modest amount of brandy in two glasses before he put them on a tray and placed them before the fire so its heat could warm it to the desired temperature. He arranged Sarah's clothing on the hearth so that they would become dry in time, but not yet. He did not want her running off before he was done with her.

Shortly afterwards, there was a knock at the door but Smith already knew who it was. He had been aware of Seraph's unobtrusive presence since he had picked Sarah up in his car. She will never know it, but Seraph was almost upon her when I found her on the street. If I had been only a few moments later, it would have been too late. It only makes sense that he would follow us to see where we were going.

No doubt, he thinks I am taking advantage of his sister at this moment and I see no reason to correct him. Besides, he reflected, I will be doing that soon enough anyway. Seraph and I have despised one another from almost the very beginning of our respective existences, but this is the first time I have ever had an advantage of any kind against him. If I recall from a file tutorial, in most personal relationships with a woman and her family, if she is seeing someone whom her own kin is violently opposed to, it only succeeds in making her more determined to stay with that man.

To have him assume that Sarah and I are now intimately involved would be hitting her brother below the belt, so to speak, but he deserves it. Quickly Smith rumpled his hair, removed his tie and its accompanying silver clasp and undid several buttons on his shirt. Anyone who didn't know him would think that he had been interrupted during an amorous encounter, which is exactly what Smith wanted her brother to think. He answered the door and stood aside as Seraph forced his way in. "By all means, Seraph, do come in," Smith said silkily as he closed the door behind his unwanted, though not completely unexpected, guest.

Seraph's mouth tightened in anger when he took in Smith's unaccustomed state of _déshabillé_, but said nothing. For his part, Seraph was relieved when he found no traces of Sarah anywhere on Smith's entire person: there was no lipstick or saliva on his face (or anywhere else that Seraph could see for that matter), and no stray hairs on Smith's clothes.

"Where is Sarah? I know she's here; I saw her come in," Seraph demanded, quickly stepping into the living room. With one glance, he took in everything: two glasses of brandy on a tray, a roaring fire in the grate and a woman's cast off clothing in front of it. Seraph's face twisted in rage when he saw a matching pair of bra and panties among the pile of clothes that were in the process of drying before the fire's warmth. The scene looked as if the undressed woman would return to her lover at any moment and the fact that this potential lover of his sister's would be Smith, the program he hated and despised most in the entire Matrix, enraged and infuriated Seraph to a degree he never thought possible.

"Where is she?" Seraph repeated, whirling around to face Smith who had the self-satisfied look of a man who had just been interrupted shortly before consummating another intimate conquest he had been anticipating.

"She's having a bath now, and I wouldn't be surprised if she takes a nap afterward: she is quite tired, you know," Smith said, a devilish grin on his face. The implication that Sarah was tired because of the possible tryst with Smith remained in the air between the two men, unspoken. The very idea of it made Seraph's blood boil with anger and his face flush with mortification and shame.

"Goddamn you, Smith," the normally mild-mannered program hissed, "the Matrix is full of millions of women and you have to pick my sister!"

"Precisely," sneered Smith succinctly.

"Bastard!" shouted Seraph, punching Smith in the jaw, knocking him off-balance. Before any of them knew it, Smith was down on one knee before Seraph kicked him onto his back and was ready to drive his foot directly into Smith's groin.

"That's just to make sure you don't do anything to my sister either now or anytime soon," Seraph snarled, his foot poised, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah framed in the doorway with an expensive duvet wrapped around herself to cover her nakedness.

"Seraph! What are you doing here?" She glanced from one man to the other. "Do you two know each other?"

"You might say that," Smith drawled. In a split second, Smith saw his chance to drive an unmovable and unforgivable wedge between Sarah and her brother. "While you and I have been trying to locate Mr. Anderson, all this time Seraph has been working closely _with_ him and his friends, Sarah--the ones who killed your fiancé."

Seraph was taken aback when he saw the fury reflected her eyes.

"Is it true?" she demanded.

"You don't understand, Sarah, there's more to it that that…"

"The hell I don't understand! I understand perfectly! Have you been helping the humans who killed Danny?"

Sarah saw the glare her brother had shot Smith. "Don't look at him," Sarah demanded fiercely, "you look me straight in the eye and tell me. Have you been helping them, yes or no?

"Yes, I have."

"How could you? You know better than anyone does how much I loved him, how much I miss him! I lost my child because of what your human _friends_ did!"

"There is much more to it than that. If you will just listen for one minute…" He sought to explain his actions, but Sarah would have none of it.

"NO I WON'T LISTEN!" she yelled, pointing at the door with an unsteady hand. "I want you to leave. Now!"

"No," Seraph said softly, "I won't leave. Not until you've heard what I have to say."

"SHUT UP, SERAPH! I do not want to hear anything, _anything_ you have to say. Just get the hell out of here!"

"Sarah, you can't listen to Smith, he's not telling you everything. Besides, he brought you here tonight because he wanted to take advantage of you! He takes your clothes and then he was going to get you drunk!" Seraph pointed to the pile of clothes at the fireside and the two glasses of brandy that waited nearby.

"First of all, had you bothered to ask, I _gave_ him my clothes so he could get them dry, he didn't take them. Second, I am a grown woman who is old enough to have a drink in the company of another man besides you, _brother_, and lastly, if Smith and I want to fuck each other's brains out tonight, then that is our business, NOT yours."

"But Sarah, you don't understand ..."

"_You_ are the one who doesn't understand, Seraph," she said, interrupting him. "You are the intruder here and I think you should leave."

"No. You must listen to me and not him! He is nothing but a liar and he only wants to use you for his own pleasure, can't you see that? He left you out in the street in the pouring rain earlier tonight, didn't he? Doesn't that tell you what kind of a man he is?"

Smith saw with apprehension how Sarah avoided looking at him and not wishing to lose any ground he had gained during his acquaintance with her, he sought to discredit Seraph any way he could.

"Your brother has an unsavoury history of his own, Sarah," Smith interjected. "He has a past that he hasn't told you about, isn't that right, _Collector_?" Smith sneered, calling his adversary by his former title. By the look on Seraph's face, Smith knew that he had never told his sister of the exact nature of his previous employment with the Merovingian and Smith knew that Seraph certainly did not want her to hear it from him first.

Sarah cast a puzzled glance at her brother. "Collector? What is he talking about, Seraph?" When she received no reply, she turned her attention back to Smith. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not surprised at your ignorance of this matter, Sarah," Smith said, "and I do not mean that in an offensive way, please believe me, but I think it's time you knew about a side to your brother that he has kept from you for too long." He indicated a seat on the hunter-green leather sofa. "Please sit down. This will take a while."

"No thanks. I'll stand. Don't sugar coat anything Smith, just tell me."

"You already know that your brother used to work for the Merovingian, but he never did tell you what his purpose was, did he? Well, I know exactly what he did and what his job was. To put it bluntly, Seraph was a debt collector for him. His muscle, you might even say. If someone owned the Merovingian some money and did not pay up, he would send your brother to collect what was owed and he was authorized by the Frenchman to use any and all means necessary."

"Including physical violence?"

"_Especially_ physical violence. Why else would Seraph programmed with such skill in martial arts if not to inflict pain? Seraph may preach about being a reformed man, but his past is filled with as many dark deeds as mine. Then he met the Oracle. After that, he had an epiphany, if you will. She convinced him that he was created for a higher purpose—to guard her against those elements in the Matrix that might wish to do her harm."

Sarah looked at her brother as if she were seeing him for the first time. She knew of his abilities in martial arts and the thought of him using those gifts he possessed against another living being, whether they were program or human, filled her with revulsion.

"Is this true, Seraph? Did you really do that, hurt people for that awful man?" Sarah asked. When he did not respond, then she knew that every disgusting thing Smith had just told her was true. She shook her head, finally allowing the grief and anger she had been trying to suppress to come to the surface. "Who _are_ you? I never knew the real you. You are a complete stranger to me. What else have you kept from me? What other secrets have you not told me? Get out, Seraph. I mean it," Sarah said, her eyes steely and determined.

"But Sarah…" Seraph tried to reason with her, but after one look at her face, he knew that she was in no mind to listen to anything he might say. He nodded sadly, then reluctantly left Smith's apartment.

"I'm sorry about all that with Seraph," Sarah began to say when the door closed, but Smith waved away her apology with a smile. He went to where he had placed the two snifters of brandy before Seraph's entrance and interruption and picked them up, handing one of them to his companion.

"He was only looking out for you. Go on, take it. You look like you could use it. It will warm you up," he said reassuringly. She hesitantly took the glass from him and cautiously took a sip before drinking deeply. The amber coloured liquor burned her tongue, but the warmth she felt after she swallowed did make her feel better.

"Thanks," she said gratefully as Smith immediately replenished her glass.

"Come, sit by the fire," Smith said, and showed her the example. She sat beside him in front of the fire, on the costly terra cotta coloured Persian rug watching the endless dance and sway of the flames, accompanied by their lively crackle. Wrapped in the down duvet, the combination of the warmth of the fire and liquor was soothing, and she found that the more brandy she drank, the more her inhibitions were being affected as well.

"Seraph loves you, you know," Smith said at last.

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know who he is anymore. How could he keep something like that from me?"

"I don't know why he did what he did," Smith replied, "maybe he thought he was protecting you somehow." He feigned a look of concern on his face and shook his head in mock resignation. This has turned out better than I had hoped, he thought. Unless I am wrong, she will not listen to anything he might have to say and she will not heed his warnings about me until it is too late. He idly fingered his jaw where Seraph had managed to land a blow and the gesture caught Sarah's notice, as Smith fully intended it would.

"I'm sorry, Smith. I've been rambling on and on about my problems and I completely forgot," she said, reaching up to gently touch his face where a bruise was already beginning to swell. "It looks like he got you good, didn't he? He must have been really mad to deliver a punch like that."

"He was," Smith said. "Listen to me, Sarah," Smith said, taking her hand in his. "He doesn't love you like a sister and he doesn't see you as the little girl he has to protect from the big bad world anymore. He sees you as I and every other man in the Matrix does: a beautiful young woman."

Sarah was flabbergasted. "He _told_ you that?"

Smith shook his head. "He didn't have to—I saw it in his face and in his eyes when you came out of the bathroom. I think it was quite the revelation to him to see you that way."

"Oh my God," Sarah breathed, "he must be so hurt after I yelled at him like that. I have to find him…"

Smith grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving, but she removed his hand. "I have to go, Smith."

"Do you feel the same way about him?"

When she turned to look at him, she was distracted and confused. "What? No. I don't know!"

Impulsively, Smith leaned over and kissed her. She did not pull away and timidly returned his kiss. In a heartbeat, in an instant, her errand of finding Seraph was completely forgotten—the sensations Smith aroused in her was making her head spin. Her whole world was focused on the feeling of his lips parting hers with a single-minded purpose, the feel of his tongue entwined with hers, the smell of his skin and aftershave prickled pleasantly in her nostrils, awakening feelings in her body she had never felt before.

Persephone was dead wrong when she told me once that kissing Smith was like kissing a dead fish, Sarah thought dreamily. In fact, the truth was more real, more intense than she ever could have imagined as she took delight in surrendering herself to the rising tide of desire that threatened to overwhelm her mind and senses.

She groaned in disappointment when his lips left hers and went to seek out the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder. She moaned as his actions sent jolts of sensual pleasure straight to her nether region, and her nipples stiffened in anticipation of feeling his hot, wet mouth and tongue teasing her aureoles until they were hard, taut peaks. Smith felt himself getting hard when he heard the note of longing and desire beneath her moans. Every man is familiar with the spoken as well as silent urgings of his partner as they engage in pre-coital foreplay and Smith was no different. By observing her body language, he was able to determine that Sarah was more than eager for him to continue his pleasurable actions.

All she could think about was the desire and lust that was beginning to course through her veins; its flames pooling between her legs, making her clitoris tingle as it became engorged and swollen. She blushed when she realized that if she had been wearing panties, they would be thoroughly drenched because the strength of her arousal caused her body to release of copious amounts of feminine secretions. Sarah threaded her hands through his hair, urging his head downwards towards her upper torso where her breasts tingled in anticipation of feeling his hands caressing them.

"Would you like me to suckle you, Sarah?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, please," she begged, her voice deep and throaty with passion.

Smith opened the duvet until Sarah's upper body was completely exposed. She blushed and lowered her eyes so that he would not be able to see her embarrassment as well as the desire that shone from her eyes. Smith's eyes wandered over her pale, creamy flesh and his mouth watered at the thought of soon being able to have a plump, rosy nipple between his lips, his tongue flicking over its tip until it was hard and firm and her moans in his ear while he drove her wild with desire.

"Don't worry, I'll get around to that, but there is something I want you to do first. Turn so that your back is facing me," he said, his voice hoarse. She gave him a puzzled look but did as he instructed nonetheless. He settled her until she sat between his legs and her back was towards him. Skilfully, he began to massage her neck and shoulders, she groaned as all of her stress evaporated and she felt completely calm.

"Do you like this?" he asked, as he applied a little more pressure as he kneaded the taut muscles of her shoulders until they were pliant and relaxed.

This is another thing that I learned from Jones, he thought, for it made Bronwyn calm down whenever he did it to her. For some reason, she found it arousing and what worked on her will surely work on Sarah. He massaged her arms from her shoulders to her elbows and heard her gasp as his hands touched her breasts, caressing them gently before she felt the his palms touch her nipples for a moment, followed by his fingers and her body responded by turning them taut and erect immediately.

Sarah tensed, her back arching against his chest and her hand clutched at Smith's knee when she felt his hand make it way down her body until it paused at the top of her thigh, wordlessly seeking permission to access her hidden depths. Without a second thought, she parted her legs slightly and gasped when his hand reached between them, stimulating her clitoris until it was a hard nub. Smith smirked to himself when he felt the wetness of her most intimate area saturate and engulf his fingers. His groin stirred to a painful state of arousal when his fingers were inundated with Sarah's juices as he touched her. Against her back, she felt the evidence of Smith's own desire as his groin tightened when he felt her eagerness and yearning for intercourse.

Slowly and deliberately, Smith turned Sarah around so that she faced him and when he started to undo the remaining unopened buttons on his shirt, she stopped his progress, indicating that she wished to do that for him. With each button, more of his chest was revealed and Sarah's eyes devoured the sight of his flesh hungrily. She tugged his shirt free of his pants and her fingers fumbled awkwardly when she tried to undo the last buttons, and she struggled to complete her task. Exasperated, she ripped his shirt open sending the stubborn fasteners flying across the carpet.

Anxious aren't you, Smith thought with suppressed amusement.

Sarah raked her nails lightly across her lover's well-muscled torso in feminine appreciation of his near perfect form; touching here, caressing there, getting her fill of the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips. Either by accident or design, her nails scraped across one of his nipples and his breath hissed in a sudden intake.

"Here, let me kiss it better," she murmured, and he groaned when her moist lips encircled his nipple. Now I know why women like this particular act so much, he mused, closing his eyes. It is _extremely_ pleasurable. He allowed Sarah to push him onto his back and groaned when he felt her mouth trailing a series of wet kisses from his chest toward his stomach, finally stopping at his belt.

Using only her teeth, she undid the buckle and when that was done, she turned her attention to the zipper of his fly.

"Careful, Sarah," he murmured softly.

"I'll be gentle," she teased, smugly satisfied at her power to arouse him; she had all the evidence she needed, for she could not help but feel his erection nudging at her chin through the constraints of his trousers. "If I didn't know any better, I would swear that you like what I'm doing, former Agent Smith," Sarah said, and Smith could hear amusement in the tone of her voice. "I never would have taken you for the kind of man who would let a woman be either on top _or_ in control."

She was completely unprepared as he suddenly flipped her over until her body was under his. "Now, _I_ am the one on top and _I_ am the one in control," he said smoothly, before kissing her again, taking possession of her mouth; not roughly, but not exactly gentle either.

She groaned when Smith had finished his conquest of her mouth and nipped playfully at the sensitive area of her neck and shoulder. She arched her neck so that he could have access to all of her flesh and his hands came up to caress and fondle her breasts. She longed to feel his hot, wet mouth on her nipples and hardly aware of what she was doing, she breathlessly implored him to do so.

"Yes, ma'am," Smith said quietly as he moved himself into position so he could comply with her request; and he took her nipple into his mouth, hearing Sarah's loud gasp of pleasure as he did so. Her hands threaded through his hair and she moaned. Just you wait Sarah, Smith thought smugly, you haven't even _begun_ to feel anything resembling pleasure yet.

Sarah arched her back and dug her fingers deep into his hair when she felt his mouth trace slow, lingering kisses down towards her stomach.

"Shall I stop or do you want me to continue?" he asked raising his head, his eyes boring into her own, fixing upon hers with a magnetic and mesmerizing stare she was unable to tear her gaze from.

"No, don't stop, please," she implored.

Smith's response was brief but to the point: "Beg, Sarah. Beg me to keep going and I will."

"Oh God, why are you doing this to me? Why are you torturing me like this?" she moaned.

"Because I can," he responded mischievously, trailing a finger to where he had left off with his mouth only he continued further south; through her pubic hair until his fingertip rested at the very beginning of her folds. "Now, shall I go up," he purred lazily, retracing his way back toward her stomach, "or shall I go down," lightly touching her clitoris. "Tell me."

Thanks to Bronwyn, I now know exactly how to please a woman in the most intimate way possible and I will exploit all of that knowledge to the best of my ability. If _she_ liked it, then you will too. However, you will not achieve your orgasm as easily as she did; I will make you beg for it.

"Down," Sarah muttered, her teeth tightly clenched together as he caressed her centre again.

"Beg," he whispered, before taking up where he left off.

"_Please_ Smith, please!" she panted, her breath coming in quick gasps.

A brief flare of anger coursed through her when she heard his wolfish chuckle at her complete submission. All coherent thoughts left her head immediately, however, when she felt his lips and tongue part her folds and latch onto her swollen clitoris. Every thought, every fibre of her being was concentrated on the slightest movement and caress of her lover's talented tongue. Escalating waves of pleasure rushed through her system as he continued to suckle and lick, bringing her closer to fulfillment; her hands had reached down and grabbed him by his ears, bringing more of his face into contact with herself. One of her fingernails sharply scraped the skin under one ear when he deliberately sucked her with slightly more pressure, intensifying the sensations.

He could tell she was very close to achieving her orgasm—all she needed was a few more strokes of his tongue and she would come. Indeed, he thought, she probably doesn't even know that she scratched me. But I won't let her climax. Not yet, it's far too soon. Abruptly he stopped his ministrations. "I don't think I'm going to let you come just yet," he said.

In order for Seraph to feel the full brunt of my revenge against him, I not only will have you, but he will know that I have _tasted_ you in the most intimate method possible. But what will really stick in his craw is that you have tasted _me_ as well—willingly.

"Why the hell not?" Sarah begged, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. I was so close to coming and he has to stop _now_? She could have screamed aloud in frustration.

"I think it's only fair that you reciprocate what I've been doing to you, wouldn't you agree, Sarah?" he asked silkily.

What he is asking for isn't so bad, Sarah pondered to herself. He only wants to experience that kind of pleasure for himself, and while I've never performed oral sex on a woman myself, it can't be easy for a man to taste a woman in this fashion. Wouldn't a man such as Smith find it degrading to do that? But if he is willing to do it to me, then I should not hesitate to return the favour, either.

Sarah got to her knees and with shaking hands, eagerly removed his pants and shorts until he was as nude as she was. Smith could have smiled to himself when he saw how discomfited she had become after seeing his naked form. Lying on his back, his mouth twisted into a slight smirk as her eyes traveled down the length of his body—lingering on his groin and fully erect member--then return to his face. Sarah blushed as she saw how the lower part of his face was still glistening with her feminine secretions.

"Why are you embarrassed, Sarah? This is just a part of you. It's perfectly natural," he said, correctly guessing the reason behind her embarrassment, and he took three of his fingers and wiped his face, extending his digits out to her. Sarah eagerly took one finger into her mouth and licked it clean, tasting herself. When she was done, she turned her attention to all of the fingers of his hand, taking each one in its turn completely into her mouth, and Smith was surprised when he felt aroused while she was doing so.

Interesting, he thought. I wonder if my response came because of my imagining what it would feel like with her lips and tongue around me, to feel completely enveloped in that wide, pretty mouth of hers. Her tongue sliding up and down my shaft as she incorporates just the right amount of suction similar to that she is performing on my finger right now.…He growled deep in his throat as he fantasized and anticipated how it was going to feel.

All of his expectations were exceeded exponentially when he felt Sarah's warm breath lightly brush against the head of his penis before she opened her mouth and took him inside. Her lips encircled the tip as her tongue lapped up pre-cum that had oozed from the head before she slid downward until almost his entire length was inside of her mouth.

Sarah was inexperienced in this particular act of lovemaking; her fiancé had not insisted that she do this to him very often, so she was relatively unsure how to proceed. She knew the basic procedure all right, but her method and skill were somewhat lacking; however, Smith did not care. Besides, proficiency in any area only comes with practice and he was more than willing to instruct her in the correct technique of fellatio to bring the utmost satisfaction to him. To him, all that mattered was that she was trying.

Not only that, but Smith knew that the mere thought of Sarah performing this act on him would antagonise and upset Seraph to no end and the longer it lasted, the more agonising it would be.

As her mouth proceeded down his shaft, Smith resisted the urge to thrust himself until he was buried to the hilt in her mouth by running his hands through her hair. Even so, he was extremely hard put not to force her to take all of him inside her mouth at once. He let her set her own pace, for he knew that if he tried to force the issue in any way whatsoever, she might baulk at performing oral sex on him the next time he asked--or demanded--it from her. Therefore, he allowed her to take as long as she needed to become comfortable with his anatomy on her own terms.

All in all, he had to admit that she had _some_ natural talent in performing fellatio; only time and patience on his part would bring the full scale of her abilities to fruition. His desire to be satiated was growing; he didn't care how, but the sooner the better. With great reluctance, he told Sarah to stop and she obeyed, looking at him questioningly. "Was that—was _I_ OK?" she asked nervously, and Smith saw in her eyes a childish desire to be reassured that her efforts had had some effect on him. "That was very good," he replied, kissing her to show that he had no reluctance or hesitation about tasting his own discharge on her lips; there was nothing shameful or embarrassing about it, after all.

Gently he placed Sarah on her back and positioned himself between her legs. Pretending to have great concern for her, he took her slowly and carefully so that she would be prepared for his entry. She heaved a slight sigh of relief at being taken thus; she had initially been afraid to become intimate with him, given his own admission of a predilection of violence towards human women and unconsciously tensed her body, anticipating pain, but there was none.

Instead, a pleasant sensation of being filled, her vagina expanding to accommodate his girth and length, spread through her. It was good being with a man again; and while Smith was not Danny, the man she had loved, being touched in this most intimate way filled a void that had been created by his death and the physical act she was sharing with Smith made her feel completed. Feeling the warm, smooth skin of a man under her fingers and the sensation of his hands caressing her in return greatly aroused her and she gave herself over to the feelings.

lllll

"Are you all right, Seraph?" the Oracle asked gently. She had noticed Seraph's distraction and as she came closer to him, she saw that his cheeks were flushed and there was a fine line of perspiration glistening on his upper lip.

He turned his head away quickly so she could not see the pain in his eyes. He knew very well what Sarah was doing and with whom; he and Sarah shared a co-existent bond that sometimes allowed them to feel and sense the emotions and even physical sensations of the other. I am feeling what she is, he thought, and I would give almost anything right now to stop this agony, this torment from consuming me. It should be _me_ making her feel that way, _not_ Smith! I am embarrassed and ashamed that I can feel what she does—the woman I always thought of as my sister, even though she is not. I hate the very idea of it, but she is with _him_ right now, having very pleasurable sex probably in front of that fireplace, and there is not one damn thing that I can do about it.

He lowered his head and blinked away the tears.

He grasped at the Oracle's hand when he felt it touch his shoulder in a silent gesture and confirmation that she would always be there for him.

"Don't be upset, Seraph. Things will work out for the best, you'll see. Sometimes you have to endure the worst feelings of loving someone before you can experience the joy. Trust me, son, and believe. You will see for yourself."

Seraph nodded dumbly and squeezed his mother's hand.

lllll

For his part, once Smith had entered the woman beneath him, he scarcely knew who it was. To him, time had turned backwards and it was Bronwyn he was with, not Sarah; the only difference being that, as he had surmised, Sarah's much longer legs wrapped themselves around his waist in a way that Bronwyn's never could.

The combination of full-blown sexual excitement and alcohol rushed through his system when he began thrust slowly inside of her, rousing and awakening feelings he had thought were long gone and deeply buried in his subconscious. Through a haze of vague recollections, he heard Sarah's murmured, half-articulate sounds of rapidly rising level of desire and a memory from a lifetime ago, or so it seemed, flashed through his mind: a desire to please Bronwyn, to selflessly put off his own satisfaction so that she could be gratified first.

However, his own desire overrode his thoughts and the only thing on his mind was to continue thrusting inside of her. His climax was close, very close, and obeying an instinct older than time, he picked up his tempo and plunged into her deeper and harder.

Sarah knew through her experience of intercourse and men in general, that he was going to come soon, and without the slightest hesitation, she knew that if she wanted to have an orgasm as well she would have to take it for herself and soon. She rose to meet his thrusts wildly as he continued to penetrate her, his passion building upwards to inevitable release.

It's always been you, there was never anyone else for me," he murmured unthinkingly and unknowingly, his lips against her ear. "_You_ are the only woman I ever wanted."

Sarah's nipples tingled when she heard him speak. That Voice. That deep, sultry, sensuous voice of Smith's that gave her goose bumps and sent shivers down her spine almost every time he spoke to her; that indefinable sense of power and strength that radiated from him like an aura, rippled over her very skin and her orgasm flared and expanded to her very fingertips, causing her to scream out in pleasure. Of all the programs he could have had, he chose _me_ to be with him, Sarah exulted to herself. He chose _me_ to love him, to share his body and mind with.

It wasn't so much that he was such a skilful lover that made her come so quickly, it was more the fact that it was _him_, Smith, one of the most dangerous and ruthless programs ever to trod upon the simulated surface of the Matrix, that was with her. Smith did not know it, but what he had thought a long time ago on a lonely park bench in the cold, driving rain had come true: power _was_ the ultimate aphrodisiac.

That's my girl, Bronwyn, Smith thought to himself with satisfaction as he felt Sarah's body continue to shudder and shake beneath him. "That's it, let yourself feel this; don't hold back. Let me show you how I can please you as no other man could," he whispered, although he never knew he had spoken his innermost thoughts aloud.

The contractions of her vaginal walls brought Smith to his climax and he cried out the name of the woman who was never far from his thoughts, even though she had ceased to live, had ceased to exist except in the files of his memory.


	6. Just Between Us Girls

**Just Between Us Girls**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Matrix.

Sarah yawned and stretched lazily and it took a few moments for her to realize that she was not in her apartment. Instead, she was lying naked on the dark green leather sofa in Smith's living room; covered by the duvet he had given her while her clothes were drying. From what she could tell, she was alone in the apartment and glancing to the side, it seemed that the fire had long since died out.

"Smith?" she called and waited a few moments, but no one responded. Hmm, I wonder where he is, she mused idly.

She drew the duvet more closely around her and a small smile played at the corners of her lips as she remembered what had happened between herself and Smith the previous night. Reluctant to leave the comfortable warmth of the sofa, she got to her feet and found her clothes dry and neatly folded next to the sofa. I need a shower first before I get dressed she thought, gathering up her clothes and heading for the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She stood underneath the hot stream of water for quite a while, closing her eyes and savouring the sensation of the rivulets touching and caressing her body with its liquid warmth. Sarah sighed in sheer enjoyment and started humming an idle tune. She was so engrossed in bathing herself that she did not notice that the bathroom had been quietly opened and then closed.

Sarah yelped in surprise as she felt a pair of muscular arms encircle her nude body and draw her close to the equally bare and now-dripping wet form of her lover. She could feel his penis stir and harden when it encountered her buttocks and Smith's arm drew her completely against him until their bodies seemed fused as one.

"Smith! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she scolded him lightly. She was about to turn around and look at him but he prevented her with gentle resistance. "Don't turn around," he said, his lips touching her ear, his hot breath sending shivers racing up and down her body.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"Shh. I don't want you to say anything; just enjoy what I'm going to do to you. Just do what I say and I guarantee you will not be disappointed. Do you understand? Remember, don't say a word."

Sarah nodded her head, her body tingling with anticipation and eagerness to see where this situation was going to lead. She allowed herself to be guided to the wall of the shower. "Brace yourself against the wall with your hands," he instructed quietly, "as if you were about to be searched."

Sarah did as she was told without a word, but she was growing increasingly puzzled as to his intentions. She heard Smith groan with pleasure as he pressed up against her body again; his hands roaming freely over her flesh with increasing desire as one hand caressed her breast while the other reached between her legs. Smith chuckled with amusement when he felt the wetness there. "The oldest weapon known to mankind," he intoned softly to himself. He pinched Sarah's nipples until they were hard and erect, ignoring her sharp moan of desire.

lllll

He took her from behind so that Sarah's cheek was pressed against the cold tile of the shower wall, each thrust eliciting a groan out of Smith as he revelled in abusing this too naive and far too trusting young woman whose only crime was her innocent association with his oldest enemy. A sharp and intense thrill of pleasure coursed through him; the situation of taking a woman from behind was so reminiscent of his first encounter with Bronwyn on the interrogation room table that without any warning, Smith found his mind replaying the sensations and feelings he had experienced on that occasion. The smell of Bronwyn's skin, the way it felt as he brutally raped her, was brought back with such exactitude that if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that time had turned backward. Almost.

The illusion was ruined when he felt Sarah counterthrust against him. Bronwyn had not done that; she had remained completely still as he violated her.

"Stay still!" he hissed, frantic to hold on to the illusion of one of his most pleasurable memories. Tempering his voice to a calmness he was far from feeling, he continued. "Let me do everything."

Now, as in the previous night, the sound of his voice aroused her more than what he was doing. Every nerve in her body, every fibre of her being wanted to move, to be able to participate fully in this rather unorthodox location for a passionate tryst, but she obeyed despite her own personal misgivings. Why does he want me to just stand here and not move, she wondered. Why did he get so angry with me just now? Is there something he is not telling me, something in his past experiences with women that could explain his behaviour?

Still remembering his instruction, Sarah bit her lip and tried her best to suppress a moan as desire surged through her system. Despite her efforts, a small whimper penetrated Smith's hearing and in his current state, his mind registered the sound as an indication of pain. Without any warning, he pulled himself out of Sarah and turned her over so that she faced him and pressed her back against the wall before continuing to pump into her. He heard her quickened breathing against his cheek and he ran his lips down her neck; sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, causing Sarah to gasp at the dual feeling of arousal and pain. Unable to obey his expressed wish to remain completely still, she raked her nails down his back in her throes of passion. He groaned in pleasure as he felt her vaginal walls contract and expand around his penis as she climaxed.

He shut his eyes tightly to vanquish the sight of Seraph's sister in front of him and concentrated on bringing Bronwyn's face to his mind's eye. His climax was only a few strokes away and he plunged into her harder and faster, desperate to come now before Sarah was tempted to say or do anything that would ruin his moment at this most crucial time. He pinned her body to the wall with the weight of his own, taking his hands from her hips, grasping her wrists and forcing them over her head. Sarah cried out in surprise and pain and that was all he needed to reach his own orgasm. Growling like an animal or a savage beast, he clenched his teeth together while his body shuddered and shook with the intensity of his climax.

lllll

"That was wonderful," Sarah murmured, her lips against his cheek. She tried to kiss him but Smith turned his face away and left her in the shower without saying another word to her. Hot scalding tears of hurt and shame prickled at the corners of her eyes and Sarah sat down in the shower, her back huddled against the same cold tile wall that Smith had taken her against. First, he calls out _that_ woman's name last night, and just now, he could not even bear to look at me. _Why_? Why does he do things to show he cares about me like what he did to those two old cats in the elevator at the restaurant who insulted me about my clothes, she remembered, then turn around and hurt me, when he left me in the street?

But maybe all he needs is time; time to grieve and heal, she thought, feeling a flicker of hope. If I am patient and give him the love and attention he seems to be missing, it might, just might help him get over Bronwyn and he will be open to love me instead. However, even Sarah's pride could not overlook the fact that it was only _after_ Smith discovered who her brother was, that he wanted to become romantically involved with her in the first place. Until that time, he was distant but still courteous; however, it was not until after she told him how she was attached to Seraph that his attentions abruptly turned from emotional to physical.

Well, I can't stay in here forever, she thought to herself, I've got to be getting home; and after what just happened, I guess I shouldn't expect him to drive me back, I will just have to get there on my own. But not yet.

lllll

"Are you sure that was wise, just leaving her like that?" one of Smith's selves asked him.

Smith frowned and looked at the perfect mirror image of himself. "What do you mean? Explain yourself."

"It is my understanding that after having intimate relations with a man, a woman usually wants some sort of reassurance that her lover's interest hasn't dwindled because of her capitulation. If you wish to continue to have sexual relations with her, then perhaps you should make some kind of amends for brushing her off this morning."

"What are you suggesting I do, send her flowers or something?" Smith said with a sneer.

The clone shrugged. "It is not my place to say."

"Normally I would agree, but for the sake of argument, I'm allowing you to say. Tell me. Besides," Smith pondered, cocking his head as he looked at this copy of himself, "you were a woman before I took you over. Perhaps you can give me some insight into how the female mind works in situations like this." Smith sat down and crossed his arms, waiting for his other self to continue. "Well?"

"Perhaps it would be best if, once she gets out of the bathroom…" continuing with what he thought would be the best solution for his superior self.

Smith listened to what his duplicate had to say and nodded his head in agreement. It was a good idea, he thought and issued an instruction to another one of his clones. Be here as soon as you can, he specified, I do not have much time.

lllll

When Sarah finally emerged from the bathroom, she was surprised to find Smith leaning against the doorframe with a long stemmed red rose in his hand.

"For you," Smith said, extending the hand that held the perfectly shaped blood-red bloom to her.

"What--"Sarah was about to ask the reason for this, but the rose was crushed between their bodies when Smith drew her to him without warning as his lips ground against hers. Sarah whimpered in anticipation and she eagerly surrendered herself up to his kiss.

Still, as Sarah's body yielded yet again to the passion of Smith's lovemaking, the small seed of doubt that had been planted in her mind after his earlier mistreatment of her began to grow and flourish.

lllll

When Sarah arrived at her apartment an hour later, she was surprised to see Seraph waiting for her in her living room. "What do you want?" she demanded coldly. "Did you come here to lecture me again?"

"No Sarah. I'm here to take you to see the Oracle."

"But I don't want to see her. What could she have to say that I could possibly be interested in hearing?"

Seraph took her hand and held it in his own. "Do it for me. Please?" he asked, and Sarah could see sincerity and silent pleading in his eyes. He had never asked a lot from her during all the time they had known one another and it obviously meant a lot to him if she agreed to his request. In the end, Sarah did not have the heart to refuse. "All right. I'll go."

Seraph breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone could set Sarah on the right path, it would be the Oracle.

lllll

Sarah said nothing on the way despite several attempts by her brother to get her to say something, anything was better than the frigid silence that now existed between them. However, Sarah's faraway manner had nothing to do with Seraph, but Smith's behaviour and her own reservations about his feelings towards her.

"Leave us alone, Seraph," the Oracle commanded, her eyes fixed on Sarah's face. "This is just between us girls." The Oracle waited until he had left before speaking to her visitor.

"So, you and Smith are lovers," she said resignedly. Sarah said nothing and the Oracle could not help noticing Sarah's preoccupied expression and distracted manner. The older woman repeated her statement but received no response. Irritated, she rose and went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and threw it in Sarah's face. Sputtering, Sarah looked in shock and anger at the Oracle.

"Now that I have your attention, we can finally talk," she said, the beginnings of anger giving a bite to her words. "How was he?"

"Wonderful," Sarah said, her lips curving into a slight smile as she remembered the passion she had experienced earlier that morning as well as the night before. But even so, Sarah was not able to entirely hide her misgivings and she knew very well that her mother had noticed.

"I'm glad he actually took the time to make sure you were pleased. Most women don't receive that honour from him; usually, he just rapes them and when he's finished, he forgets about them."

"He has never raped a program," Sarah countered angrily. "He told me that himself."

"Rape is rape, no matter if the woman is human or one of us; it's still a brutal violation of a woman's body and mind."

"Why should I care what he did to those other women? They were only human—weak and meaningless."

The Oracle sighed in exasperation and barely concealed annoyance. "When you say things like that, you are even beginning to sound like Smith. I have always tried to raise my children to be tolerant and accepting of the humans who share our world, but I've failed miserably with you, it would seem. He will hurt you as well, Sarah. Whether it be physically or emotionally, he will hurt you. And after he does and you finally see what kind of man he really is, don't come crying to me because I will not help you."

Sarah shrugged. "I don't care."

Oh, but you will care, I've seen it, the Oracle thought to herself. You will care a great deal and neither Seraph nor I will be able to help you. You will be in a hell of your own making and it will destroy you in the end.

"He doesn't love or even care about you, Sarah. Listen to me," the older woman demanded, taking Sarah's chin in her hand and looking into her eyes. "Smith's intentions with you are not honourable. If you continue to associate with him, he will destroy you. His destiny is to try to destroy not only our world, but Zion as well."

"I don't care about the humans _or_ Zion, Oracle," Sarah snapped, jerking herself out of her grasp. "I've heard all about the so-called prophecy and I just don't give a shit. I only care about staying ahead of the upgrades and Smith is my best chance for survival. Seraph can't, or should I say _won't_ protect me; he is too busy guarding _you_ to give a damn about what happens to me, anyway. Smith, on the other hand, _does_ care. He won't let anything happen to me," Sarah finished, her voice ringing with confidence.

"There is more to a meaningful relationship than just sex, Sarah," the oracle said. Sarah looked in surprise at the Oracle and was surprised to see a fleeting smile dance across the older woman's face, deepening her dimples. "Oh, yes, I know all about sex. I may be what some call a soothsayer, but I am also a woman, too. I've had my share of intimate encounters the same as you." The smile disappeared from her face and she became serious. "That is what Smith only needs you for now. You know it as well as I. Once you showed him where he could see Neo, your usefulness to him ended and he will only seek you out when he needs a woman in his bed. Tell me, how many times during sex did he call you by _her_ name?"

"None," Sarah lied valiantly, not meeting her mother's gaze. Sarah's lower lip trembled and she lowered her head.

"Come here, child," the Oracle said quietly and opened her arms. It was invitation enough. Sarah gladly and gratefully embraced her mother and let her tears flow. "And even this morning, when we—well, _you know_, he treated the whole thing as if it was someone else that he wanted to be with, not me!" Sarah kept to herself what had followed after he had given her the rose. She knew he meant it as a conciliatory gesture, but deep in her heart, Sarah did not buy it. He probably only got me that rose so he could fuck me again and he _still_ has never mentioned my name during sex, she thought to herself morosely. Her heart gave a painful lurch and in her utter despair, Sarah clung more tightly to her mother.

"I know, Sarah, I know it hurts and I'm sorry you have to feel pain like this," the Oracle said, laying her cheek on Sarah's hair. She refrained from saying anything further. Her young guest desperately needed a shoulder to cry on, not a lecture. She stroked her hair, murmuring heartfelt words of comfort and solace, her own heart felt ready to break. I will always be here for you, the Oracle thought to herself, despite what I said to you earlier. When one of my daughters needs me, I will never turn her away.

"He made love to me, but he called out that woman's name! She was only a _human_! What did she have that I don't?"

"First of all, Sarah, he did not make love to you; he only had sex with you. There is a big difference between the two but that doesn't matter now. Bronwyn was carrying his child. Once he found out that he was going to be a father, it affected him in ways the Architect and I had never foreseen. The fact that he could even produce offspring never occurred to us; he wasn't programmed for it. However, it happened anyway. And the fact that the child's mother was a human…" She shook her head.

"Would his child have been able to survive if she had been born? Could she even have passed as a human?"

The Oracle nodded her head sadly. "Yes, but her life would have been very difficult. A half-human, half-program hybrid would never have been accepted in our world, once word got out about her parentage. She would have been scorned, shunned. It was for the best, really, that she did not live."

"How can he still love this woman so much? Can't he get it through that big forehead of his that she is dead and she is never coming back?" Sarah wailed in desperation. "Why can't he love _me_?"

Sarah's despair wrenched her mother's heart and she sought to console her grieving child the best way she could. "I don't know why he felt the things he did for Bronwyn. Perhaps it was only because she spurned him and that only made him want her more than he would if she had given herself to him. Whatever it was about her, she has him by the heart to this day. And when Bronwyn killed herself before his very eyes, it scarred him as well." She stroked her daughter's hair. "Forget about Smith, Sarah, and concentrate on the one that truly loves you.'

"Seraph?"

"Yes. Seraph. He is kind and gentle; he will love you the way you deserve. Give him a chance."

"But he's my brother…"

"No, Sarah, he is _not _your brother in any sense of the word. You are only saying that because you grew up with him and have never looked at him in any other way. I know you see him as a friend, but sometimes friends can be lovers as well. For once, try to see Seraph as a man and not as your brother. I think you will like what you find." She smiled to herself when she felt Sarah nod her head against her breast. "That's my girl. Now dry your tears and give some thought to what I said. If you stay with Smith, he will only hurt you."

But I know what will happen when you see Smith again, the Oracle thought. You will not be able to tell him no. I cannot say that I blame you; I was a young woman once too, and when it came to men, I didn't always use my best judgment either. I predict great pain and heartache for you, Sarah, the Oracle thought. But, she thought as her lips curved in a smile, I predict--for however brief a time it may be--great joy for you as well.


	7. Used and Abused

Used and Abused 

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix, blah blah blah.

Sarah groggily and very reluctantly opened her eyes in response to the repeated pounding on her door. Go away, she thought, burrowing her head under the pillow and waited for the beating of the insistent fist of whoever wanted in at this hour to subside, but it did not. Goddamn it, she cursed and fumbled her robe on with sleepy fingers and left the warmth and security of her bed to give whatever asshole was on the other side of the door a good piece of her mind.

She yanked open the door and the words of anger died on her lips when she saw it was Smith. Sarah was startled not only by his presence but by his appearance as well. Something had gone wrong—she could see it in the expression in his eyes. Her female intuition told her to close the door in his face, to bolt it shut so that he could not enter, but she was not able to move.

"Can I come inside?" he asked huskily.

Sarah nodded silently and stood aside to let him in. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked when she had closed the door behind him. She wrinkled her nose as she caught the whiff of brandy that clung to his clothes. It was obvious that he had already been drinking a lot, judging by the smell alone.

"Yes, I'd like that," he responded, sitting down heavily on her sofa. When she came out of her kitchen, he grabbed the bottle of beer from her hand and drank it until the bottle was empty.

"Jeez, Smith, what happened?"

"I saw him again. I wanted to let Mr. Anderson know that I am still alive so I delivered my old earpiece to the guards who were guarding that steel door so that they could pass it along to him. And they did."

"What happened?"

"As soon as I left, the upgrades found him and engaged him in hand to hand combat."

"And?"

"He took all three of them on at once, and less than a minute later, they were all defeated." Smith shook his head in reluctant admiration. "He just walked away while they did not get up again. It was unbelievable, Sarah. He now has such strength, such power; I know that if we had encountered each other again, he would be the winner, not me."

"What are you going to do? I mean, what _can_ you do? If he is really as strong as you say, how can you beat him?"

"I don't know. But I must try to figure out a way. _I must_," Smith growled in anger and frustration.

"You want to talk about it? Maybe between the two of us, we can think of something?"

"No," Smith said bluntly. And I seriously doubt that you have the intelligence to think of something that might actually be useful to me in this circumstance.

"Talk? That is a human trait, a need, a desire to tell your deepest, darkest problems to someone else so you can feel better and forget about it. No," he said angrily, getting to his feet, "I most certainly do not want to talk about it."

"Then why the hell did you wake me up at this hour if you didn't want to talk?" demanded Sarah. "Why did you bother to come over at all?" She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Why don't you just leave then, and let me go back to sleep?"

"Sleep? Yes, that's it. I definitely need to sleep, but not in the way you think," he said huskily, his arms going around her and holding her tightly against his body.

"You are a woman and I am a man, in a manner of speaking of course, but even you cannot question my intentions now." His mouth began to nuzzle the sensitive area of her neck, growling deep in his throat as he tasted her flesh. No, Sarah, he thought as he continued to touch her, there is only reason why I would come to you at this time of night and it certainly is not emotional in nature.

"No, Smith. Stop it," she ordered, trying to disengage herself from his iron embrace, but his grip was too strong and he would not, or could not, relinquish his hold on her. This is just great, she thought sarcastically, now I have to deal with a drunk _and_ horny ex-agent in my living room, panting in my ear and pawing at my body.

"I want you, Sarah, I need you. Don't turn me away," Smith said, his voice hoarse and dry. She closed her eyes and put her arms around him. Despite the lateness of the hour and the tiredness of her body, her passion was kindled when she felt his lips and mouth against her throat, nearly scorching it with the heat of his desire. He fumbled with the belt on her robe before he snarled with impatience and ripped it off her body until it lay on the floor at their feet.

Like millions of women before and millions of women after her, program and human, married or single, Sarah was about to learn the lesson that an intoxicated and aroused man only thinks of himself. He only performs enough foreplay to arouse the woman he wishes to be intimate with so that she is moist enough to receive him and Smith was no different.

The only thing, the only thought on his mind, was to get inside her as quickly as possible and fulfil his lust. His hands roamed freely and greedily over her body; touching and fondling, making Sarah groan with anticipation. He knew exactly where to touch her to obtain the response he wanted and she knew it. His mouth devoured hers voraciously, his need for her growing steadily until it reached a fever pitch and he was unable to wait any longer.

He pulled her to the floor and once Sarah was on her back, he shrugged his jacket off. He twitched his tie loose, but otherwise did not bother to remove the clothes on his upper body.

"Goddamn it Smith, can't you wait long enough to take your clothes off?" Sarah angrily demanded, struggling to get out from beneath him. I don't want it to be like this, she thought as she focused on trying to stop him from taking her before she was prepared enough for his entry.

"I don't want to wait—I'm _not_ going to wait any longer," he growled and Sarah listened with fear in her heart as his hands scrabbled with his belt and pants in the darkness. She heard him curse to himself as he struggled to free himself from the constraints of his trousers, and for a moment, she thought she had enough time to escape.

She hissed in pain when he entered her quickly and deeply without warning. Smith groaned in pleasure as he buried his member to the hilt inside of her, his hands grasping her hips so he could begin the timeless rhythm of withdrawal and penetration that would bring him satisfaction.

But not to Sarah. And while this act of intimacy could not technically be called rape, it wasn't far from it either.

Gone was any hint of the tenderness, any of the thoughtful consideration he had shown her during the first time they had been together in this way; here was Smith at his most primeval and base. He used her body without giving a thought to her needs or wants. The Smith she had known before and the one who was grunting and groaning on top of her now were two sides of the same coin—an example of the Matrix's worst Jekyll and Hyde scenario. Like Henry Jekyll, he could be a handsome and charming man, but on the inside, and very much like Edward Hyde, he was a monster. And it was the Hyde side of his nature that was inside of her, making Sarah feel pain with the slightest movement.

Sarah lay quietly underneath him, her arms at her sides as she stared at her darkened ceiling, counting the number of times he thrust into her and wondered how long it would take him to climax. She knew that he was approaching his orgasm for his pace quickened and became more vigorous and purposeful—his goal was in sight for his orgasm was very close now and to Smith, that was all that mattered.

Sarah listened with a bitter heart as yet again he cried out a name that was not her own—she knew it belonged to the dead mother of his child; that one word injured her more deeply than his near-animalistic abuse up until now. Tears of humiliation as well as emotional pain flowed from her eyes for at no other time in her life could she remember being used in this manner. She waited until it was over and he no longer thrust inside of her before trying to get out from under him, but it was useless. He was dead weight and she could not move him.

"What are you doing?" he asked drowsily, his body already yearning for sleep and rest from the extremely pleasurable activity he had just indulged in. Satiated and content, Smith was in a languorous state of mind and felt no inclination to move.

"I want to take a shower, Smith, and I can't do that unless you get off," Sarah panted, pushing at his shoulders, hoping that he would take the hint and oblige.

"But I already have _gotten off_, as you say," he teased smugly. "And besides, what if I don't want to move? I like it where I am right now—between your legs and deep inside of you."

"Not _that_ deep," she remarked dryly. "You've had what you came here for; now get off me so I can have what _I_ want for a change, tonight."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hardening. Bronwyn was the last woman he had had, and a memory of an argument about this same subject manner came boiling to the surface.

"Nothing. Just forget about it."

Fortunately for her, Smith had imbibed too much alcohol earlier in the evening to pay attention to what she said, but unfortunately for her, Smith was the kind of male that became easily aroused by the struggles of a woman. He sniggered as he felt himself respond to Sarah's unsuccessful attempts to wriggle away from beneath him.

"Resistance is futile," he said with a smirk, "and in case you don't know it yet, Agents _always_ get what they want, whenever they want. And what _I_ want right now, is you. Again."

"What about what I want?" Sarah shot back. "I suppose that doesn't matter, does it?"

"Not in the least," he said brusquely, before he proceeded to take her again. He did not give Sarah any time to even think of anything to say before he quickly shifted his position and guided her head to his groin. He felt Sarah baulk, hesitating for a moment before she opened her mouth to envelop his half-erect penis with her lips. He groaned when she took some of his length into her mouth and his member became hard almost immediately afterward. He hissed sharply in a mixture of pain and pleasure as her teeth grazed his shaft.

"Don't you even think of biting me," he warned with a growl. "Take all of me inside; I know you can do it," he ordered, and when she did not comply to his demands immediately, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced her to take all of him into her mouth. "That's it," he grunted, wildly bucking his hips forward and back with increased roughness and frequency. Sarah fought the urge to gag as she felt the head of his penis slam repeatedly against the back of her throat. By this time, he was moaning and groaning loudly and Sarah could tell that he would come very soon and hoped that she would not choke on his ejaculate when he did. After a few more strokes, he came with a sharp, piercing cry and shot hot semen deep into her mouth.

lllll

Immediately after his passion had subsided, Smith rose, straightened his clothes as close as he could to their usual pristine state and left Sarah's apartment.

"Where are you going?" Sarah asked, but he had already closed the door behind him to either hear or answer her question.

Smith was too preoccupied with the important communication he had just received from one of his copies to reply. Two rebels are on their way to their exits not far from here, he thought as he quickly made his way to his car, and I should be able to intercept them before they can elude me. Since the upgrades failed to stop Mr. Anderson, I will attempt to take one of the rebels over so I can try to kill him in Zion.

Do not engage the rebels, only contain their movements. I will take one of them over myself, he commanded his other selves, for I do not want a copy of a copy to enter the gates of Zion. While I cannot be there in person, I want the next best thing to be on the scene. Me.

lllll

As soon as Smith had left, Sarah went to her telephone and dialled a number. "Can I come over?"

Seraph waited a long time before answering. He had, of course, known very well what had happened between herself and Smith less than fifteen minutes ago and deep-seated jealousy had taken hold of every part of him. Seraph had even thought of permanently washing his hands of Sarah. She has made her bed, he thought, consumed by anger and hurt, now she should lie in it.

"Please, Seraph?" she begged. "_Please_ don't turn me away, I need you." Sarah cringed when she realized that she was asking forgiveness from the man she had cruelly and abruptly ordered from her sight less than 48 hours ago. Everything Seraph had said to her that night had come true and she flinched in shame at the painful remembrance. I didn't even listen to a word he said; all I could think of at the time was how much I had wanted Smith. Sarah did not want to dwell on the fact that she was almost repeating verbatim what Smith had said to her as she hesitated to open the door.

Seraph had been on the verge of refusing, but he heard the sound of her tears and despair underneath her words. Her distress tugged at his heart and he gave her the only answer it was in him to give; it was not the answer she deserved and they both knew it.

Shortly after, he heard her knock and she entered without a word. "Are you alright?" he asked, when the silence between them became too strained and uncomfortable.

"No." The tears she had been trying to subdue overcame her and Sarah buried her face in her hands and wept. Without a word, Seraph took her in his arms and held her against him.

"It's all right, Sarah."

"He _used_ me! He never cared for me or what I wanted; all he wanted to do was to fuck me!"

"I know," Seraph murmured, his cheek against hers. I know exactly what he did to you tonight, he thought. He knew that I could feel everything you did; he humiliated and used you for his own pleasure—to torment me and to frustrate you. And he succeeded on both counts. I wish I could think of something to say that will make you feel better, but I know the only thing that can help you right now is my silence and support. You do not need to hear me say _I told you so_, for you know that now. She has seen for herself that Smith is a liar and uses women for his own pleasure; abandoning them as soon as he becomes bored or tired of them.

Sarah clung to him, freely accepting his strength and pardon for her harsh words the night she had first had sex with Smith. "I'm so sorry for everything I said."

"Shh. It's OK," he said softly. "It's in the past, Sarah. Don't think about it now."

"But it's _NOT_ OK," she sobbed. "You were right and I was just being stupid as usual."

"No, you are not stupid; don't say things like that."

"I _was_ stupid! I believed his lies!"

Seraph took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "Listen to me, Sarah: it's over now and it doesn't matter anymore. Now I want you to promise me that you won't think about it, all right?"

Sarah nodded. _Try_ _to see Seraph as a man and not as your brother,_ her mother had said and her words echoed in Sarah's head. Maybe it is time I actually listen to her, she thought. He would never have treated me as Smith just did; Seraph would have ensured my satisfaction before seeking his own, Sarah realized through her tears. He would have been gentle, kind and loving; everything that Smith is not or could ever be. "I don't deserve your forgiveness or your love, Seraph, but I'm going to ask for both." She brought her lips to his and kissed him.

For a long moment, their mouths were joined but Seraph did not return the kiss. He doesn't want to be with me after all, Sarah thought dismally as she pulled away, and I can't say that I blame him. I've been with Smith and that knowledge has turned his mind against us being together.

"I'm sorry Seraph. It's late and I didn't mean to bother you. I'll see myself out," she said, getting to her feet. What did I expect, she reflected, that he would respond and everything would be hunky-dory between us?

If I let her leave, she probably will never come back, Seraph realized. Is what she wanted from me really so difficult to comprehend? If I let her go now, where will she go? Back to Smith, perhaps, who will undoubtedly take a perverse delight in hurting her some more? I must somehow overcome my pride and do what I have to to keep her with me so that she never returns to Smith under any circumstances. But it is so damn difficult!

"Sarah, wait!" he said. Her hand was on the doorknob and she looked at him over her shoulder. Seraph's pride would not let him continue. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words would not come. Sarah smiled sadly. "It's OK Seraph, I understand how you feel and I don't blame you one bit."

The soft click of the door opening reverberated through Seraph's mind. The finality of the sound and what it would mean removed the chains of restraint that had held him mute and still. Before Sarah had time to close the door behind her, Seraph had taken her elbow and gently but firmly guided her back into his apartment.

"Don't leave Sarah," he said, taking her hand away from the doorknob and closing the door himself; leaving the two of them in darkness except for the blinking neon signs outside of the windows. He put his arms around her waist and drew her to him. She felt his body tremble when her breasts were pressed against his chest.

"You are so beautiful," he said, running his hand over the smooth silkiness of her hair. "I've always thought of you as something more than a sister. Until now, I've ensured that the feelings I had towards you were buried deep inside myself; hidden away so no one, especially not you, would ever know about how I truly felt,. Hidden away, that is, until Smith came along. I guess I should be grateful to him on some level because it was his interest in you that finally made me realize how much I love you."

"What about Danny?" Sarah asked quietly. "How did you feel about my relationship with him? We were going to be married, after all."

"I knew he loved you the way you deserved and I also knew that you were happy with him. That's what I always wanted for you: to be happy. If he hadn't died, I would have accepted it and never looked back or had any regrets."

"But he did die, Seraph. Because of your friends."

"I know. I should have confided in you earlier about what the Oracle and I were doing, but after you lost your baby, you put this wall up around you and I could not break through it to talk to you. I left you alone, figuring that you would find a way to work through your grief and that you would come back to me eventually. Then Smith came into your life."

"I was so wrong about him…"

"It's over Sarah, and I'm glad. Not glad that he hurt you," Seraph interjected quickly, "but you now see him as he really is: a self-centred, egotistical bastard who thinks of no one but himself."

Sarah snorted. "You have no idea how right you are. But there is something I have to tell you about Smith—he has been copying himself a lot lately. I mean _a lot_. I don't know how many of him there are now, but it's got to be at least a hundred by now, if not more."

Seraph was thoughtful. "Do you know why?" he asked, frowning.

"I think so. From what he said to me once, he wants to beat The One so badly he can taste it. Smith saw firsthand how easily Neo beat all three of the upgrades and he got it into his head that the only way he can beat Neo is if he has a large enough army of copies who will fight alongside him so he can accomplish that. Is it important?"

"It could be. But not now. Right now, you and I should concentrate on just that: _you and I_. Leave Smith at the door, he's not welcome here."

"Never again," Sarah murmured, tilting her head up to receive Seraph's kiss. "Brother and sister no longer," she said softly as their lips met.


	8. Between the Paws of an Animal

Between the Paws of an Animal 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix.

Warning: This chapter has explicit content, both consensual and not. You have been warned.

Smith cast one more extensive look into the bright cloudless sky and searched for his nemesis, but Mr. Anderson was long gone. The battle between himself, his clones and Neo had gone badly, to say the least. While he himself remained relatively unscathed, Smith could not say the same for some of his clones, some of whom had been killed during the battle.

He knelt on the ground by the side of one of them and cast his glance around the concrete courtyard where a few more lay. Smith eyed their prone bodies with a cold glance and a dangerous glitter appeared in his eye. In a manner of speaking, these men were all my children, he thought, gently turning the lifeless form that lay at his feet onto his back. The normally immaculate smart black suit was dusty and soiled and the dark glasses had been knocked askew. Smith reached down and straightened them; however, he could do nothing to restore life to the sightless perfect blue eyes gazed beyond Smith, his creator, and into the emptiness of death.

Like human offspring, they were created by me, but unlike humans, they did not require a mother to give them life. _I_ did that. _I _created them. However, one of them is now in Zion, Smith thought triumphantly as he continued to gaze into the dead, but still handsome face of his copy.

The one now in the last bastion of the humans has his orders and the wit to carry them out, so it is only a matter of time before Mr. Anderson will be annihilated; where he feels the most secure and safe--in the sanctuary of Zion, where the humans hide and live miles below the surface. If one can call existing and dwelling underground in caves living. Smith grimaced at the thought. Mr. Anderson has no way of knowing that his demise is near, he has no way of knowing that his death will come from the hands of a man with whom he has brushed shoulders with in the past. And if what the human known as Bane has told me, the humans are breeding and multiplying like rodents.

Aware of the stares from his other selves, he rose to his feet. "I don't want them left here out in the open like this. Take their bodies away. These fallen ones have served me well and I will not leave them lying here surrounded by the filth of the humans." All of the humans on this despicable planet will pay for what Mr. Anderson has done to me this day. I swear it.

He turned and nodded to his copies and they understood their tasks without being told: take over everyone in the Matrix whether they were human or program. I will replace those who were taken from me by creating thousands more, he thought to himself. I will avenge them, but not yet. Like any father whose child had been taken from him, I need to be comforted, consoled--preferably in the arms and warmth of a woman's most intimate flesh. And I know just the one who can make me forget this abysmal defeat and losses that I have suffered today.

A smug smile appeared on his face as his fingers twitched his black silk tie into place. A man who goes a-courting with the hope of getting laid should always look his best, he thought idly, making his way to his gleaming black Audi in the distance.

lllll

Without even bothering to knock, Smith tried to open the door to Sarah's apartment but found it locked. Nonplussed, he manipulated the Matrix accordingly and the door swung open. I'll be damned if I'm going to let a little thing like a locked door keep me from what is rightfully mine, he thought smugly. He strode into the room and immediately took Sarah into his arms.

"Hmm, you smell so good," he growled deep in his throat as his olfactory capacitors inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair. Her body was soft, warm and fragrant, and everything that was masculine in Smith responded to the feel of her skin beneath the thin cotton dress she wore. "I missed you."

"What are you doing here?" Sarah demanded sharply. "The door was locked on purpose."

"And I opened it," he replied with such a smirk on his face that Sarah turned away in disgust.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I need consoling." Smith said, the corners of his mouth turned down in an exaggerated pout.

"From what?"

"The unthinkable, Sarah, the absolute unthinkable—I was beaten today. By Mr. Anderson. A human, no less."

Sarah sighed and Smith looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "You find that amusing?" he demanded, his voice tight with displeasure.

"No. I just think you should get over it, that's all. Everyone is beaten from time to time." Smith may be a program, but he is still a man, susceptible to all of the failings that men the world over have gone through before him. Stupid male ego, Sarah thought contemptuously.

"Not me," Smith snarled. "No one defeats me, Sarah. _No one_."

"Well, he did. Deal with it."

"No, Sarah, I won't just _deal with it_, as you put it. I had over 100 copies of myself and he still managed to walk away unscathed. No, that's not correct—he flew away like the coward he is."

Good, Sarah thought to herself, a brief flicker of exultant joy passed over her face. I hope he kicked your smug ass into the ground before he left. "So tell me again: _why the hell are you here_?" she demanded, her hands on her hips

"Oh, I think you should be able to guess," Smith replied. "I would never admit it to anyone but you, but my ego has been very badly bruised and I need a woman to _stroke_ it back to health for me." His eyes raked over her body and there was a definite leering glint in his eye that she had seen too often not to know the meaning of. He probably thinks that I am just going to happily jump into bed with him and let him use my body for his own satisfaction; but not this time, Smith, Sarah thought firmly. Never again will I allow myself to listen to any more of your lies. She brought her hands up to his chest and for once, succeeded in pushing him away from her.

"No. I don't want you to touch me. Besides, it's not me your body craves; you only want that little human slut you were so fond of."

"What?"

"Hello?" Sarah sneered, rapping her knuckles sharply on Smith's large forehead. "My name isn't Bronwyn—it's Sarah. When you came the other night, it wasn't my name you called out, it was hers. Everyone in the Matrix knows the story of what happened between you and her. She was a prostitute. You raped her. As a result, she became pregnant. She ran away. Jones fell in love with her. You killed him. You caused her to lose the baby and she threw herself off the 45th floor of a high-rise building to get away from you." Sarah checked off all these items on her fingers as she recounted them. "Did I miss anything?" she asked mockingly.

"What are you talking about?" Smith demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"The thought of staying with you made her take that swan-dive off the balcony. She chose to die than be with you, Smith, and I can't say as I blame her. You were the one who was responsible for killing your own child; it probably wasn't a difficult choice for her to end her life. I'll bet she was even doing this," Sarah motioned with her hands as if they were imaginary scales. "Hmm, should I stay with Smith or kill myself? Gee, I wonder what she decided on?" Sarah said sarcastically.

"Don't you ever talk about Bronwyn like that again," Smith snarled, the lips that had brought such pleasure to Sarah were now drawn back over his teeth in his rage; his hand lashed out, and Sarah reeled backward from the force of his fist connecting with her cheek, and unable to regain her footing in time, fell to the floor.

"Bronwyn was nothing but a slut, a whore off the streets that you fucked and subsequently impregnated, so it's a little late to defend her honour now. But your child was a freak, Smith, and slapping me around won't change the truth and you know it!" Sarah shot back furiously. "Half human and half program. What chance could she have had to live a normal life? None! She would not have been accepted in either our world or by the humans. A half-breed, that's all ever she would ever be known as, had you not killed her."

By this time, Smith was standing over her and she heard his knuckles crack when he clenched his fist.

"Get out, Smith. Go find yourself a twenty-dollar whore to fuck and leave me alone. Besides, Seraph will be coming over and you had better not be here." He doesn't have to know that that is not the truth, she thought.

"So, he finally got around to banging you, has he? It took him long enough to figure out what his dick is for," and he laughed, a harsh guttural sound that gave Sarah a chill and a sense of foreboding. He is not the kind of man to whom laughter comes easily or naturally, she thought, but I don't care about Smith anymore. It is Seraph that I love and it's time for me to learn from my mistakes and move on. And the biggest mistake I ever made is standing right in front of me.

"He loves me and I love him," Sarah said. "I was blind for too many years to see what was underneath my nose all the time. But my eyes are finally open to the truth: what I felt with Seraph was love and what I felt with you was lust, nothing more and nothing less. Because of Seraph, I now know what true passion is."

"What about the upgrades? If you had stayed with me, I would've protected you from them, and Seraph is too busy guarding the Oracle."

"What about them? The way I see it, they should be more worried about you—how many times have you cloned yourself since we met? One hundred? Two hundred? _You_ are more of a threat to the Matrix than I ever will be." Sarah shrugged. "I have nothing to fear from the upgrades."

"So that is your final decision, then?"

"It is. I'm staying with Seraph and you, Smith, can go fuck yourself."

For the second time in his existence, a woman had rejected him in favour of another program. And in Smith's own mind, a vastly inferior one at that. Anger coursed through him; inflaming everywhere it touched, scouring his restraint sub-program until there was nothing left but blind, killing rage.

He raised his hand to strike Sarah again, but stopped. Wait. I know the perfect punishment for you, Sarah, he thought. A plan formed in his mind and he smiled. No, I won't hit you, he thought as he saw Sarah flinch and raise her arm, readying herself to being struck again, I will do something far, far worse than what you ever could imagine.

In an instant, he installed an impenetrable firewall into the walls, doors and windows of Sarah's apartment. When he was finished, he glanced around, impressed at his own genius. Now that this place is secure, I can proceed.

He reached down and grabbed Sarah by the front of her dress. He hauled her to her feet, and then raised her off the ground until her toes could no longer touch the floor and her face was inches from his. "I'm going to make you pay in full for everything you said to me just now," he said, his rage all the more formidable because of his calm demeanour. "You want me to fuck myself? Now, why should I do that when you are here for the taking?"

A shiver of true fear rippled through Sarah when she saw an ominous half-smile tug at the corners of his lips. "When I am done with you, you are going to beg me to kill you, for it is only through death that you will be able to escape the pain I will inflict on you." Issuing an unspoken order to some of the copies that were nearest to his immediate vicinity, Smith could not help but gloat at the fate that awaited Sarah as it came ever closer with slow, steady steps. You have no idea what is coming, do you, Sarah, he thought. But you soon will; and I will thoroughly enjoy every moment of it as I watch you suffer.

"Promises, promises," she mocked. "You really don't know anything about women, do you Smith? Any woman knows that the guys who brag the most about that they've got inside their pants or what they are going to do with it, usually have the least amount of reason to brag. Let me put it another way: the guys with the biggest mouths usually have the smallest dicks."

"Oh, it's not _me_ who is going to hurt you, Sarah, it's _them_," Smith said silkily and watched her face tighten when Sarah saw three of Smith's clones enter her apartment. "And if those three cannot break you, I have more available at my complete disposal. _Many_ more." He brought his mouth to her ear. "I can and will turn you into pulp. I will have them fuck you so hard so that no man--especially not that double-crossing, do-good mama's boy Seraph--will ever get to be intimate with you again."

Smith turned his head, looked at his copies, and issued his orders. He did not do it telepathically as he had on previous occasions for he wanted Sarah to hear from his own lips what her punishment was to be. When they heard their master's spoken commands and directives regarding his intentions regarding the female, the three minions understood their task. Each was to position himself where Sarah could be physically subdued to the greatest advantage with a minimum of effort: two were to hold her down while one was to rape her.

Deep in her heart, Sarah knew it was a waste of time to try and fight, but she did it to the best of her ability for as long as she could. I will not be able to live with myself if I just lay here, took it, and did nothing to resist.

She struggled and fought like a helpless animal caught between the paws of an animal that was about to devour her. Sarah bit, scratched, and cursed using every swear word in all the languages she was fluent in. She was fighting more for her liberty than her life; she had heard for herself what was coming and she was seeking desperately to evade the iron grips of her tormenters. But as she expected, her best efforts were useless against the combined force of the strength of an agent program times three. It did not take long before her limited and finite reserve of strength was exhausted and she lay panting on the hard uncomfortable floor, waiting for the inevitable.

lllll

Smith sat cross-legged beside her while one of his clones continued to slam his hard, masculine flesh into her, each stroke as methodical and systematic as Smith himself would be in the same situation. In an effort to distance herself from what was happening to her body as she was being violated, Sarah could not help but compare the agony she was now enduring to the exquisite sensations that she had experienced the previous evening as she and Seraph prepared to make love for the first time...

_She and Seraph were lying nude on his bed in the dark room. He was holding her in his arms and she snuggled against his body, anticipating what would happen next. Sarah knew that he did not really use his bed to sleep on; it was his primary space for internal reflection and deep meditation and he used it almost exclusively for that purpose. Until tonight, that is. Tonight, we are finally going to be together, Sarah thought, a small smile crossing her face. Her heart was thumping so loudly, she was sure that he could hear it. She took a deep breath and was grateful for the darkness in the room that hid her blushing face from his view. _

"_Are you nervous?" he asked her, his hand gently stroking her cheek._

"_Actually, I'm not, as strange as that may sound. It's almost like this was meant to be, you know?"_

"_I know; I feel it too." He kissed her and felt her tremble beneath his hands. "I will never hurt you, Sarah, I hope you know that. Do you trust me?"_

"_Yes," she whispered. Seraph laced her fingers with hers as he lay on top of her. She swallowed nervously and felt him gently and slowly enter her. This was in total contrast with Smith's hard, fast-and-furious style of lovemaking that she gasped in delighted surprise, arching her back and counter-thrusting with her hips as he filled her completely…._

With the next forceful thrust of the clone's manhood inside her, Sarah was painfully jerked back to the present, with Smith's dulcet tones next to her ear.

"You see Sarah, rape is not entirely about sex, it is about control as well. I have complete control over my other selves and they, in turn, control you. After all, he has been going at it for," he smirked as he checked his watch, "more than 45 minutes now. Not bad, if I do say so myself. However, as your can see, he is no closer to achieving his release than when he started. Why? Because _I_ decide whether he will allowed to feel pleasure or not. If I wanted it, I could allow him to continue for hours. Or, I could be generous and let him come now. Watch.this." Smith nodded his head at his other self and no sooner had he done so, then the copy closed his eyes and shuddered. Smith groaned as he shared in the pleasure of his clone's orgasm.

"You are probably thinking that it's not fair that he is the one who is doing all the work and I share in the reward for all of his hard efforts, but I am the _alpha_ male and I did not wish to be short-changed in any respect. Why should I sit idly by and not experience the satisfaction of hurting you, or any other woman for that matter? Then it occurred to me that I don't have to--it's the most original and imaginative programs that I've ever come up with, if I do say so myself."

Through the haze of agony she never would be able to break out from, a cry of pain escaped her lips when the clone withdrew himself from her raw and inflamed womanhood. Sarah visibly tensed with fear as she watched another one of Smith's copies cross the room, preparing to take his place.

_Oh God, no_, her mind screamed, _I cannot take it anymore_. _Make it stop_! It took all of her self-control not to cry out in pain as she felt herself being penetrated and violated again. Once more, Sarah struggled against the hands restraining her to no avail.

"I can make all of this pain and suffering stop in an instant if I so wished," Smith said, leaning forward until his face was inches from hers and if Sarah had had the ability to produce saliva, she would have gladly spit in his face. "But I won't. I want you to experience pain, Sarah, unimaginable, excruciating pain for what you said to me earlier tonight when you called my daughter, _my_ Sarah, a freak. I will not punish you for saying her mother was a slut, because she was. But she loved me in the end. She loved _me_, not Jones," he snarled.

You arrogant asshole, Sarah thought to herself, I _am_ already feeling unimaginable and excruciating pain and you know it. She fought to remain conscious and coherent for as long as she could. But I will never let you know that I have already reached the limit of my threshold for sustaining pain without any outcry, for you are the kind of man that gets pleasure out of another's agony.

"Continue to delude yourself all you want, Smith, but even you can change the fact that Bronwyn did not love you. _No one_ could ever love you in her right mind. Do you honestly think she jumped because she loved you? God, you are such a dickhead," Sarah uttered these words through clenched teeth; it was only by doing so that she was able to retain her faltering grip on her resolve. It took a while for Sarah to focus her mind on getting the words out. The level of agony in her body was intensifying, she had to concentrate on rising above the pain, and say what was in her heart. Defiantly, she called Smith a name, one of the foulest she could think of.

"How pathetic, Sarah, even _I_ could have thought of a better expletive than that. So be it, then." As before, Smith nodded his head at the copy of himself and the cycle of sexual release for her tormentor and his subsequent replacement continued. "But I want you to think on this until I come back: I am going to be the last man you will ever know. And in response to your remark, I have not, nor will I ever, become intimate with my mother." Smith paused at the door. "And just in case you are wondering…" and stopped.

He had been about to reveal that the firewall he had installed earlier prevented Sarah's dilemma from becoming known to Seraph, but decided against it. Let the little slut hope and pray that he will come to rescue her, Smith thought. They can feel what the other is going through, and she will wonder why he hasn't come to relieve her pain and suffering. Little does she know that he will be completely unaware as to what is happening to you until he physically comes through that door; and when he does, only then will he realize what you have been going through. But by then, it will be far too late to save you.

"Never mind about what I was going to say, it wasn't important. Have fun," he said, giving each of his copies a mischievous look, "and take all the time you want. Call in reserves as you need them, fellas, I'm sure they can be convinced to fill the void if need be." He was laughing at his own joke when he left.

It did not matter to Sarah where Smith had gone or when he was coming back, for as soon as the door closed behind him, she let loose her iron grip on what was left of her self-control and screamed. She did not care if all of those who were in the room with her bore _his_ face; as long as _he_ was gone and out of her sight, she could give in and surrender to her fear and pain without regret or reserve.

The pitch and severity of her screams startled the group of copies to the extent that they ceased their violation and conferred what to do next, giving Sarah a temporary reprieve from which she could regroup her thoughts and recover a little from the combined efforts of the trio of men who possessed the strength and staying power of agents.

"Someone could hear her and investigate. What should we do?" one of the clones inquired of the others.

"We continue until told otherwise or are relieved by reinforcements as they become necessary."

_Reinforcements_, Sarah's mind recoiled in sheer horror; is he saying what I think he's saying? How many more of them will be doing this to me? _Where are you, Seraph_, her mind cried out.

"However, we have been given permission to stifle her so that her cries can't be heard past the door. But in the unlikely event someone does try to help her, there are two more of us standing guard outside anyway, so we will be able to subdue anyone attempting to enter without permission."

One clone moved to cover her mouth with his hand, but was ordered to stop before he could continue the gesture.

"No. We are not to touch her with our persons beyond what is necessary; other than for restraint and violation."

You mean you can only touch me with your hands to hold me down or fuck me with your dicks, is that it, Sarah thought viciously, watching intently as one of them appeared to be waiting for further instructions from Smith.

"I have just been informed that we have to silence her before we resume," the copy said and he nodded to the others. "Remove your ties. One is to be used to bind her hands and the other is to gag her."

_Noooo! Don't do this to me anymore; you've made your point, Smith, please stop this! _ Sarah turned her head slightly to see if there were shadows underneath her apartment door, announcing the arrival of Seraph or anyone else for that matter, who would make her abusers stop what they were doing, if only for a moment. But there was nothing; no indication that rescue in any form was forthcoming.

I suppose it doesn't matter anyway, she thought resignedly. In any case, if what he just said was true, there are two more waiting outside for their turn.

Her only escape from descending into madness was the remembrance and vivid images of the night before; when she experienced the thoughtful and unselfish attentions of the one program in the entire Matrix who truly loved her…

_Sarah and tightened her legs around Seraph and unknowingly dug her nails into his back. She was very close to her climax now, and a whimper of anticipation filled the hot, still air of the bedroom. Her breath came in short panting gasps as she reached the point of no return and when her orgasm burst inside of her, she arched her back and cried out in abandon, not caring who heard. Fiery sparks exploded beneath her closed eyelids and it seemed that every nerve ending, every connection in her body all came alive simultaneously to give her the longest and most intense climax of her existence… _

She was dragged without mercy or consideration from her memories of exquisite pleasure to the present; one of agonizing pain and brutality she had never known the meaning of until today. The last thing Sarah remembered as she welcomed the approaching tide of blackness that was coming to overwhelm her senses and finally end the agony was one thought: Seraph, where are you_…_.

lllll

Driven at last into the blessed forgetfulness of unconsciousness, Sarah opened her eyes and wondered where she was. The apartment was dark and empty and she judged it must be night, but exactly what time of day it was or even when the rape had stopped, there was no way of telling. All Sarah knew was there was no one on top of her body now, no one thrusting inside of her making her pray for death or deliverance from her pain. She was lying on her side and her hands remained bound behind her back. At the edge of her reasoning, she knew she was not alone in the apartment; but whether that person was male or female, friend or foe, she had no way of knowing.

Her heart froze when she heard a door open and footsteps coming toward her. A pair of immaculate and glossy black leather shoes came into view and she whimpered in anguish at the thought of a renewed assault. Smith has returned to hurt me some more, she thought, a wave of hysteria rising in her like a deadly tsunami about to decimate everything it came into contact with through its terrible unstoppable power.

Sarah did not care what Smith thought of her now for through the actions of his clones, he had completely and thoroughly stripped her of all the pride and dignity she possessed; and if he wanted to hear her beg and plead so he would not hurt her anymore, then she was willing to do it. She would even lick his shoes clean if he so desired with no hesitation or compunction whatsoever. Either way, she had nothing left to lose and she knew it.

She tried to wet her lips and discovering that the gag had been removed; she tried to speak but was only able to emit a gurgling noise from her throat. Her mouth, as she discovered, was full of a warm, thick fluid. Is it blood, she thought. No. Blood tastes different. Like iron, while this was more like salt.

She swallowed and tried not to retch when she felt the aftertaste of semen invade her taste sensors. Those bastards must have done it to me when I passed out, Sarah thought disgustedly, and that's why the gag was removed. I would have bit their dicks off if they had tried to do it while I was still conscious, that's for damn sure.

"So you're awake, then?" Smith asked. "Would you like some water?"

Water? Sarah thought. Why is he offering me water after what he has had done to me? "What?" was all she managed to say.

Smith grimaced in distaste and revulsion as he smelled the odour of his copies' discharge emanate from her mouth as she spoke. "Oh, do not make the mistake to think that I am repentant in any way whatsoever of my earlier treatment of you by offering you something to drink now; it's just that I can hardly understand you. I thought some water would enable you to make some intelligible sounds not to mention wash away that disgusting smell in your mouth. Do you want some water or not?" Smith asked coldly.

"Yes."

"Beg, Sarah. I want to hear you grovel and plead."

Her throat was dry and she resigned herself to the knowledge that if she bowed to his request, it was the only way to rid herself of the foul taste in her mouth. "Please, Smith, may I have some water?"

Smith raised her up so she could drink and ease her raw and bruised throat. He also untied her hands and she rubbed her sore wrists before eagerly swallowing the proffered refreshing liquid greedily and gratefully. When her thirst was slaked, she tried to get into a sitting position but found she did not have the strength to support herself; not to mention the pain that hit her throbbing nether region made her think twice and she lay down again. As soon as her back was again on the floor, the first inner twinge, the first indication that something was wrong assaulted her and Sarah's blue eyes glared into Smith's with an accusatory glance.

Her breath came in shallow gasps and Sarah realized that something horrible and alien was building inside of her. Utter and absolute fear paralyzed her and though her brain demanded obedience from her limbs to make any movement, they would not submit to her will.

What is wrong with me, am I dying, she wondered. Why can't I move?

"Yes, you're beginning to feel it now, aren't you? Spreading through your system, growing uncontrollably inside of you like a cancerous tumour, infecting you from within your own body?" Smith leaned back and folded his arms in smug appreciation of himself. "I haven't written a program for a quite a long time; it's nice to know I haven't lost my ability."

"How did it get inside of me?

"You haven't figured that out yet? Why am I not surprised? Think, Sarah, think!" Smith said mockingly, taking her face between his hands and forcing her to look at him. "In what way during the last few hours has something been introduced to your system? I'll give you a hint: it's not something you drank. Well, not something you swallowed voluntarily," he said with a suggestive glance. "Let's see if we can't figure this out, shall we? From what I was told and what I felt for myself, you were assaulted over a half a dozen times before you passed out from the pain. Not to mention the blow—er, oral pleasure you so considerately gave to a couple of my other selves. After you were unconscious, of course."

So that's why I had not swallowed and woke up with a mouth full of….She shuddered. How the hell could I have ever found him attractive, Sarah thought to herself shaking her head in puzzlement. The pain from every forced act of rape from innumerable partners made her wince. There were _more _than six?

"What did you put inside of me?"

"What it _is_ is not important right now, Sarah, but what it does, is."

"What will it do to me?"

"Your system will crash, one file after another. All of your motor functions will cease to operate but your sensory capabilities will not be damaged in any way. Your mind will not be affected--your will and thoughts will be trapped inside a body that will not obey your simplest mental command. Not only that, but in a few minutes you will lose the ability to form any kind of intelligible speech. In other words, you will become what humans refer to as a vegetable; unable to communicate except through those lovely blue eyes of yours. Try, Sarah. If you can so much as wiggle your big toe, I will restore you to what you were and give you to Seraph with my blessing. Go on."

A sinister smile crossed across Smith's face as he watched her struggle to comply to his request time and again. A malevolent cackle filled the room as she was unable to obey. As quickly as it began, his brief spell of merriment was gone. Leisurely he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and leisurely he pulled out the small photograph of Sarah's dead newborn son. "It took me quite a while to find this, you know. However, I refused to give up for I knew you always carry it around with you if at all possible. Do you know what I intend to do with this last physical remnant of your life, Sarah?"

He smiled, noting that her eyes never left the simple but priceless piece of her heart he held between his fingers. "I'm going to burn it before your very eyes and watch your face as I do so."

"No, for God's sake, don't do it, Smith! _Please_!" Sarah saw with horror that Smith had ignited the match he held in his hand and hold her only photograph of her infant son just out of reach of the flame's seeking grasp.

"Why shouldn't I? More importantly, why should I even pay any heed to what you want at all?"

"You've taken what you wanted from me; you've hurt me so much already today, isn't that enough? What more do you--" Sarah opened and closed her mouth trying to form words, but she was unable to make any sound.

Smith threw his head back and laughed. "You should see yourself now, Sarah. Your mouth is gawping helplessly like a fish out of water." He chuckled with sadistic glee at her dilemma. "See? I told you that you would lose the ability to speak, didn't I? Although, I am a little displeased that it took this long. In answer to your question before my program finally kicked in, I want to watch your face as I break your heart," he snarled as he lit the corner of the photograph that was Sarah's most treasured possession. In that instant, the moment Sarah saw the burning picture fall to the floor and not only be consumed by the flames but suffer the final indignity of being ground under Smith's arrogant and spiteful heel, her heart did indeed break.

_Don't do this! Please...nooo!_

By the simple act of turning a piece of virtual paper into ash, Smith was able to accomplish what all of his brutal and violent usage of her physical form had not-- the essence of what once was a vibrant and loving woman was gone by the time the last ember of the photograph cooled from red to black.

lllll

"Sarah?" Seraph answered his cell phone on the first ring. She should have called me hours ago, he mused. She's probably taking her time in deciding what to wear, he thought fondly.

"No, it's not Sarah, it's me," Persephone said. "Listen, I don't have much time, but you have to get over to Sarah's apartment as soon as possible."

"Why? What's wrong?" Seraph asked, puzzled. If Sarah was in trouble, I would have known about it, he thought.

"Just get over there," Persephone said, before hanging up. He will not get there in time to stop what is being done to her, it is probably too late by now, but at least I gave him some kind of warning to get there as soon as he can. For Sarah's sake, I hope Smith has killed her because she will be infinitely better off if allowed to die; but knowing him as I do, he would want to prolong the agony she is suffering.

Godspeed, Seraph, Persephone thought fervently.


	9. A Frantic Plea

A Frantic Plea

What was that phone call all about, Seraph wondered. Initially, he had been hesitant to believe Persephone's vague warning, but he had been in the employ of the Merovingian for too long to idly discount the validity of the intuitions of his wife. The more Seraph thought about it, the more he realized that Persephone, like the Oracle, had never been wrong in her predictions. Apprehension and fear about Sarah's well-being began to coalesce and take hold in his mind.

If that is the case, then there is definitely something wrong with Sarah, Seraph thought to himself. I have to see her as soon as possible. Persephone had not mentioned that Smith in any way but Seraph had a hunch that Smith was somehow involved. Since Smith had not managed to defeat Neo that very afternoon despite the overwhelming odds in his favour, he was not likely to be in the best of moods; and knowing Sarah's disposition of giving as good as she gets especially in an argument, then I fear she is in real trouble.

Wasting no time, he headed directly to her apartment. The closer he was to Sarah, the more the feeling of dread appeared to weigh on his shoulders. We were supposed to have lunch together, but she never showed up. Something was wrong, horribly wrong with her and she needs me. Usually I can tell what is going on with her and how she is feeling, but as of 1:25 this afternoon, it is almost as if an invisible wall suddenly and forcefully cut her off from me. Before I go any further, I have to consult with the Oracle—she will know what to do, she always does. He broke into a run.

"Oracle," panted Seraph as he burst into her apartment, "something is wrong with Sarah. Will you come with me?"

The Oracle looked completely unsurprised at her protector's violent and unexpected entrance. She glanced at the Architect who was sitting with her at her kitchen table and they both got to their feet.

"We can all go in my car," the Architect said. "It'll be faster that way; besides, no one will stop _me_ and we won't have to deal with any unpleasantness from the police or the upgrades—they know well enough not to interfere with anything I do."

Seraph whispered his heartfelt thanks and the Architect nodded. "Lead the way."

lllll

Seraph raised his foot and kicked in the door to Sarah's apartment. Abruptly, the firewall that Smith had installed completed its cycle and shut down. Seraph stopped short on the threshold; his knees would no longer support him and he clung to the doorframe in order to keep himself upright. He closed his eyes in horror as the images of what had happened inside the apartment threatened to overwhelm him…

_Sarah screaming before she was silenced somewhat with the gag. Sarah fighting helplessly fought against Smith's lackeys, their hands holding her down in their inexorable and inescapable grip as her legs were forced apart yet again. Sarah crying out his name as one of Smith's selves proceeded to violate her, followed by another and another and another...Please nooo!_

"_No!"_ Seraph moaned as hefell to his knees clutching his temples hearing her last coherent words reverberate through his head .For hours she had suffered; and during all that time, she had been crying out for me wondering where I was and why I never came; perhaps she even thought that I had abandoned her. But what finally broke her was the callous and cruel destruction before her very eyes of her most treasured memento—the photograph I took of her son after he was born.

"Oh my God," Seraph whispered, when he saw Sarah's prone and lifeless body on the floor of her apartment. Her dress was bunched up to her waist and her torn underwear was lying a few feet from her body. He ran over to where she lay and knelt on the floor, holding the body of the woman he loved in his arms, rocking her back and forth, murmured words mixing with the tears falling freely from his eyes and wetting Sarah's cheek as he pressed it against his.

"You're going to be all right, Sarah, I'm here now. No one will ever hurt you again. Please, please be all right!" he whispered, his hand reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from her eyes.

He looked into their pale blue depths but only a blank shell where a fiery, lively disposition once dwelled stared back at him. Conscious of the Architect's unobtrusive presence at the doorway, Seraph discreetly re-arranged Sarah's clothing so that her modesty was not compromised. What is wrong with her, he thought, concerned and perplexed. It is as if her mind has completely shut down.

The Oracle knelt down, put her hand on Sarah's forehead and shook her head.

"Why isn't she responding? Is she…is she dead?" Seraph asked.

"No, Seraph. She's still alive." It would have been better if Smith had killed her—that at least would have been humane the Oracle thought, but instead he chose to leave her like this. What he did to her was cruel beyond imagination.

"You _must_ be able to do something! I mean…we've only just found each other," Seraph paused, his voice breaking.

"I know, son," the Oracle said sadly.

"This can't be the end of us, not like this. I can't—I _won't_ lose her."

"There is nothing I can do."

"Yes, you can! You are the Oracle--you can do anything!" He shouted at her, and it was the first time in their lengthy partnership that he had ever spoken to her in such a tone. "You can correct this virus that Smith implanted in her. You can override and overwrite what has been done to her and make her as she was! Please!"

"Seraph…"

"Please, Oracle!" Seraph begged. "I haven't asked for anything during all the time I have protected you and you know that. But I'm asking now: do this for me, for Sarah."

"What you ask is difficult…"

"Don't even think about it," the Architect warned her from where he stood.

The Oracle gave him a steely glare. "Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do with my own programming—it's mine to keep or give as I see fit. And right now, I will help my daughter. If you don't like it, I believe you can go to hell."

The Architect recognized futility when he saw it. "So be it," he said coldly. "But before you proceed, are you aware of the consequences of your actions? You know, do you not, what will be required of you?"

"I do. My mind is made up. You can leave or you can stay, I don't give a damn."

"I'm not going anywhere."

The Oracle tightly pursed her lips together in disapproval but said nothing as she glanced down at her daughter, giving her a momentary but thorough glance at her code. Something else is wrong with Sarah, she thought to herself, something that is familiar; as if I've seen it before, but what could it mean, she wondered.

"I have to examine her," the Oracle said, looking at both Seraph and the Architect. "You two," she ordered, "will need to move Sarah to her bed." When that was accomplished, the Oracle sat beside her daughter and took her hand. "Get out," she said to the two men, "and close the door behind you."

When the door closed, the Oracle turned her attention to her young charge.

"I know you can hear me, Sarah, and I also know that you are not able to respond, but there are more ways of communicating than just one, so don't trouble yourself about not being able to speak."

_He destroyed my only picture of Alex._

"I know what Smith did, but you must trust me: there is _nothing_ he can do that I cannot put right. Just remember that."

_Can you fix it? _

Although the question was not verbal, the Oracle heard what her daughter wanted to communicate nonetheless. As any mother knows, she is able to determine what her child feels by a simple look. The shame and grief depicted in Sarah's eyes was painful to look at, but sometimes a mother must put aside her personal feelings and be strong in order to give support to her hurt offspring. "I can and will restore his picture to you, Sarah."

_Thank you, Mom._

Sarah paused, and then communicated the words her mother dreaded to hear but Sarah knew she needed to convey.

_Smith hurt me. He held me down and…_

"I know everything, child, you don't need to tell me," the Oracle said softly and brushed away the tears of shame and humiliation that trickled down Sarah's face. "I have to scan your code now to see what's been done and how best to correct it, all right?"

She ran her fingertips over the prone form of her daughter, starting at her forehead and gradually working her way down her body. The older woman nodded grimly as she assessed the internal damage that Sarah had suffered. Smith and his cohorts certainly did a number on you, didn't they she thought. Her fingers paused at the area just below Sarah's navel. I knew it, the Oracle realized; it has already begun. She sighed.

_What is it? What's wrong?_

"You're pregnant." The Oracle saw rather than felt the joy that suffused Sarah's entire being. I should have realized before how much losing her first child meant to her, the older woman thought to herself. She thinks the baby is Seraph's and I have to be honest with her now for when the child is born, she will know just by looking at it that I lied to her.

"Sarah, it isn't Seraph's baby you are carrying. I'm sorry, honey."

_Smith's?_

"It is."

_No! Help me, Mother! Take it out of me and kill it!_

"Sarah, I can't kill it. Although I know you want me to, there are some laws in the Matrix that even I must not break. But, you should know me by now—even though I can't break the rules, I do bend them from time to time. That said, I'm going to do something that no one must ever know about. What I am going to say and do must NEVER leave this room, do you understand?"

_Yes._

"I am going to alter the Matrix code that is already growing inside of you so that Seraph will be the father of this baby, not Smith."

_Can you really do that?_

"Of course I can, honey."

_But won't the Mainframe be able to find out what you've done eventually?_

"No one, and I mean no one will be able to find or destroy the firewalls I set up, don't you worry. But I need you to be quiet now so I can concentrate." She touched Sarah's forehead again and smiled as her daughter's eyes glazed over and closed. She was asleep.

Now I can begin the Oracle thought. She found the location of the storage of Sarah's reproductive files and was able to access them without any difficulty. Here comes the hard part, she thought, her forehead furrowing in concentration as she began the process of infiltrating and replacing the nested system of programming that had already implanted itself into the side of Sarah's uterus and was beginning to grow.

Without warning, Sarah's inert body twitched and began to spasm uncontrollably. Alarmed, the Oracle stopped what she was doing to investigate what was causing her daughter's system to crash. She watched as the spiked gauges that signalled system failure returned to their normal boundaries. Could this just be an isolated anomaly or a fluke of some sort, she wondered. She tried the procedure again with the exact same results.

Now this _is_ strange, she thought to herself. It is as if her body is defying me somehow; trying to prevent—wait. Something inside her knows exactly what I am trying to do and is threatening her life as if warning me not to proceed, but what could be causing that?

It's you, isn't it, the Oracle thought, placing her hand over Sarah's womb. Somehow, you are already cognizant enough to recognize the danger that you are in and you are defending yourself the only way you know how—by jeopardizing your own mother's life to get me to stop. You may have won this round, little one, but the Architect and I will put our heads together to figure out a way to save our daughter, you can depend on that.

However, there is one thing I can do and that is to remove all of her memories of the last few hours. No woman, not even you, my frail and fragile daughter, needs to be reminded of how you were brutalized today.

A blur of green coding exited the Oracle's fingers and entered Sarah's system. One was to repair any and all damage to Sarah from the virus Smith had had implanted in her while the second was to remove the last few hours from Sarah's memory.

As she had expected, Seraph was waiting outside the door. "How is she? Will she be all right?" he asked anxiously.

"She'll be fine, Seraph. She just needs to rest."

Seraph nodded and turned away so that his mother would not see the tears that filled his eyes. "This is all Smith's doing," he said harshly in a tone of voice neither of his parents had ever heard from him. They met one another's eye over Seraph's bowed shoulders that shook with the enormity of his grief. He hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve; he had important work to do now, and if he were to succeed, he would have to be strong. "I have to leave, Oracle, and I hope you understand why I have to go."

"I know. Just be careful and come back as soon as you can."

"Father," he said, addressing the Architect, "you will have to remain here in my absence to ensure that no harm will come to Mother."

The Architect looked down at his son in annoyance. "I can't stay here and you know that. I have a desk full of work that I have to finish…" He never had the opportunity to complete his sentence as Seraph grabbed him by the lapels of his light grey suit and forcefully slammed him against the wall.

"You will stay here and watch over Mother, do you understand me? And if you are not here when I return, then you will have to answer to me."

The Architect dumbly nodded his head and Seraph released him, before turning abruptly and rushing from the room.

"You know where he is going, don't you?" the Oracle said.

Her companion nodded. "To take his revenge on Smith."

Something in his tone made the Oracle glance at him sharply. "Can you blame him after what Smith did to our daughter?"

"No. I only hope that Seraph can survive against him."

"Don't worry; Seraph's anger will give him the strength he needs to thoroughly bash that bastard to a bloody pulp," the Oracle said, her voice was strained with the anger she was feeling. "Seraph will kick Smith's ass soundly, you can be sure of that. Sarah will be avenged."

"Good. And speaking of our daughter, I know what you said when you were in the bedroom with her," the Architect said, his gaze hard and cold as he looked at his colleague. "Did you do it?" he demanded.

"Do what?"

"You know damn well what I am talking about."

"No, I wasn't able to."

"Why not?"

"Because our daughter's system was too weak and damaged from her assault; if I had tried to change the paternity, I would have run the risk of causing more harm to her. When she is stronger or maybe in a few days, then I will try again. But for now…."

"This can't wait a few days, it has to be done NOW, don't you see?" With a great effort, he managed to get himself under control. "He damaged her that badly?" the Architect said quietly, his face white and stricken.

The Oracle nodded sombrely. "Yes, he did."

"What about her memory?"

"I altered it so that she won't remember what happened during the last few hours. When she wakes up, all she will know is that Seraph loves her and they belong together."

"What about her memories of Smith?"

"She won't know what he did to her after he hit her. As far as she's concerned, she has given him information and they were intimate once, but that's it. Only you, I and Seraph will be the only ones who know what's been done to her."

"And Smith."

"Yes, and Smith too."

"What if he finds out about the pregnancy? You have to change to paternity _now_ for you know as well as I do that if you wait a few days…" If we wait even that long, he thought to himself, it will be too late. If what I suspect about that baby is true, then we are in serious trouble already.

"I already told you, I can't do that because Sarah is far too weak and any additional stress on either her mind or body will cause her CPU to crash. You programmed the gestation period to be ridiculously short for all females who reach childbearing age. Humans give birth in 36 weeks, while _we_ have only four. What were you thinking?" she snapped angrily. "Four weeks isn't nearly long enough to detect, let alone repair, a damaged or flawed offspring. Why didn't you give us more time?"

"The reason I gave you such a short period of time is that I did not want our women to be as inconvenienced as the humans were by a nine month gestation. I did what I thought was best at the time; how the hell was I to know…"He broke off, interrupted by a sudden "_shushing_" motion of the Oracle's hand.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"I thought I heard something; like someone leaning against the door. It's nothing—probably only my imagination." She shook her head to clear it. "Anyway, we have a few days to correct the paternity from Smith to Seraph and the sooner I do it, the better."

"The last thing the Matrix needs right now is for Smith to procreate again. Besides, with the way he's been replicating himself…" The older man shook his head in defeat. "No one can stop him, not even the upgrades. He just takes them over with no effort at all, adding yet another soldier to his army."

"I know, I know," the Oracle said soothingly, patting his shoulder. "But you are wrong--there _is_ someone who can stop him and when the time is right, he will."

"Are you referring to The One?" the Architect said with a slight sneer. "Since when do we programs need a saviour, and a human one at that?"

"Since we lost control over one of our own, that's why. Smith is on a path of destruction that will destroy the Matrix _and_ us. He won't stop. He has had a taste of power and he likes it. It's an elixir, an addictive drug to him and he will only want more."

"Is the end coming?" the Architect asked, a flicker of fear passing over his features.

"Yes, it is," the Oracle said sadly.

"How soon?"

The Oracle shrugged. "Too soon, I'm afraid."

"Is there _nothing_ we can do?" her companion asked and his voice trembled for a moment. He would always deny it afterwards when the Oracle mentioned it to him, but for a few seconds, he felt genuine human emotion.

"No. Neo is the only one who can stop him."

"And if he can't?" the Architect queried, his tone pensive and concerned.

"Then we will be destroyed; every single human and program in the Matrix. The essence of what we are, what we could be, will be gone forever."

The Architect took the Oracle's arm as she made to go back into the room where Sarah lay. "Do we tell Seraph about the pregnancy and who is the father?"

"I will tell him only _after_ I have altered the child's paternity, not before. Seraph has served me well all these years and this is something I have no right to keep from him, but I must. God knows he has earned the truth, but I cannot break his heart by telling him the woman he loves is carrying Smith's child. Any man who knew Smith would have problems accepting it; Jones did too, remember?"

"If it is irrevocable, we will have to tell Seraph—all he will need is one look into that child's face and especially those eyes to figure out the truth." He sighed deeply. How can I tell you what I know, he thought. You may know the future, my love, but I know what is going to happen if the pregnancy is allowed to continue.

The Oracle gave him a sharp look. "What is it that you are not telling me?" she demanded. "You've been on edge ever since I finished with Sarah. You are hiding something; I know it."

Her companion turned away before he answered. For the first time in his existence, he was tempted, very tempted to lie to her. But you deserve better than that, he thought to himself and distasteful as the truth is, you need to hear it. "You are not going to like this," he warned.

"I haven't liked anything about this whole damn day," she spat. "Just tell me."

"Sarah will not have a normal gestation time of four weeks; she will have much less time than that."

"Why?"

"Smith, as we both know, is an agent program and was not supposed to procreate but he has. Twice."

"I know all this, get to the—oh no," the Oracle groaned. "She will have less than four weeks because the pregnancy will be accelerated in her case, because an agent is the father of her baby. That's why you were so persistent about me changing the paternity as soon as possible."

The Architect nodded sadly. "Before the week is out, she will be experiencing morning sickness. But I think it will be sooner than that."

"_So soon_? But I could not proceed to alter the father's coding to that of Seraph; it was like her body was rejecting the attempt."

"Actually, it was the fetus that did that—it sensed what you were about to do and it reacted in self-preservation. He or she knew that you wanted to save Sarah's life at all costs and that you would stop if her life were threatened. And you did, just like it wanted."

The Oracle tried to digest what he had just told her. "I know, I felt could feel that it was already aware of what I was trying to do."

"Remember, it is the child of an agent that we are talking about and it has abilities of which we know nothing. Seraph will have to know and the sooner the better. I know he told you to leave things as they are, but we have to find a way to convince him that it is in both of their interests to agree to an abortion. And if the baby tried to fight your attempt to change the paternity, it may already be too late to terminate the pregnancy itself."

"Sarah will never agree to get rid of this baby," the Oracle shook her head decidedly. "When she lost Alex, her heart was broken. She will see this baby as a replacement for the one she lost."

"She might agree if she knew that Smith is that child's father, not Seraph."

Now it was the Oracle's turn to wish to hide the truth. I already know what will happen when she finds out –she will seek an illegal second trimester abortion and die as a result. No qualified or reputable obstetrician or gynaecologist will even think of performing the procedure unless the mother's life was in serious jeopardy. Moreover, he or she will undoubtedly know that this is not the case just by taking one look at her.

Our poor desperate daughter will be forced to seek out someone who is unscrupulous and greedy to the extreme to rid herself of the unwanted burden that has now started to grow inside of her. This so-called professional will be someone who is perfectly willing to risk my daughter's life in exchange for lots of cold hard cash. Sarah will die, bleeding to death in some filthy hotel room and it will be my fault for keeping the truth from her until it is too late.

Her vision of Sarah's future caused her lower lip to tremble and her eyes fill with tears. She was enveloped in the strong embrace of her long-time friend and lover who, although he did not possess the gift of clairvoyance, knew what would happen to Sarah as well as her mother did.


	10. You and I Have Unfinished Business

**You and I Have Unfinished Business**

Disclaimer: Insert usual "I don't own the Matrix" blog here. I also do not own the rights to any situations/dialogue that is being borrowed from "Kill Bill Vol.1" either—I just think it is a _really_ cool movie and some scenes seemed appropriate for this chapter.

Summary: Seraph seeks out Smith to punish him for Sarah's violation and a dark chapter of Seraph's life is revealed.

When Seraph arrived at Smith's door, he heard the sound of a television being played in the background. It was so loud in fact, that he could hear every word of the dialogue as clear as if he were in the room itself…

"_O-Ren Ishii, you and I have unfinished business!" the statuesque blonde woman in the yellow and black outfit shouted in fluent Japanese as she held her nemesis' friend and lawyer, Sophie Fatale, in front of her on the point of her samurai sword. With one fluid stroke, the blonde woman with the deadly blade abruptly and without hesitation sliced the arm off of Sophie, leaving her shrieking and writhing on the floor in agony while the blood from her wound sprayed everywhere…._

Although the movie was one of Smith's favourites, Seraph had liked it too and he smiled wryly as he listened. How appropriate, he thought, that he should be watching a movie about bloody revenge and retribution as I arrive here tonight to avenge what he has done to my beloved. Smith had watched from the sidelines, supervising what his copies did to her as she was torn apart and ravaged; I would not be surprised if he enjoyed himself.

Instinctual courtesy made Seraph raise his hand to knock, but he thought better of it. No, I will give him as much warning as he gave Sarah before he had her brutalized--none. He grasped the door handle and ripped it out before raising his foot to break open the secondary security locks.

At his entrance, Smith looked neither shocked nor surprised; instead, he glanced at his watch. "You should have been here an hour ago, Seraph, for that was when I discovered that the firewall I installed had shut down. Before we continue, let me at least turn down the volume so we can hear one another." Smith chuckled. "You've come at my favourite part—she is about to eliminate several of her enemy's bodyguards with hardly any effort. I've always liked this movie, you know, despite the fact that the director is human," he shrugged, before turning his attention back to the television.

Seraph gave Smith a disdainful glare as he regarded the three copies that were unobtrusively stationed around Smith's apartment. "Am I such a threat to you that you need these _things_ around to protect yourself from me? Or is it too much to ask that we conduct our business alone?"

"You may not be as strong as I am, Seraph, but I do respect your speed and proficiency in martial arts. Therefore, you will have to get through them before you get to me, as she does," Smith said glibly, jerking his head toward the action on the widescreen plasma set. "You may begin anytime you wish, my friend. I'm going to watch the rest of my movie."

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I have to admit, he does have extraordinary skill, Smith thought to himself as he watched Seraph thoroughly defeat each of the copies in turn. His anger has made him powerful; more so than I ever could have imagined. And after he is done with them, he will come for me and we shall see who will be the last man standing...

"I'm impressed," Smith said with reluctant admiration as he poured himself another brandy. "You took care of my copies much sooner than I expected." He indicated the space next to him on the sofa. "Sit down and let's discuss this like the men we appear to be. Speaking of which," Smith said, looking at Seraph over the rim of his snifter, "how shall we handle this? I've always wondered how two men defend a lady's honour anyway. Shall we meet at dawn and have pistols at twenty paces? Since I can dodge bullets and you can't, that method seems somewhat pointless, wouldn't you say?"

"We don't need weapons, Smith," Seraph hissed, his entire body shaking with anger and rage.

"Very well. We shall only use our abilities in martial arts and may the best man, so to speak, win. Shall we share a brandy, then, before we begin?" Smith crooned, extending the bottle to his visitor.

"Go to hell," Seraph snarled. At no time in his existence, had he ever felt an intensity of such raw emotion. Instead of recoiling from these new and terrifying feelings, he welcomed them. "You hurt Sarah, and I'm going to see that you pay for that," he seethed.

Smith cocked his head as he considered Seraph's statement. "Technically, it wasn't me, _per se_, but my other selves who hurt her. I, on the other hand, hardly touched her. So you see, your argument is flawed."

"_You_ created those clones, no one else did."

"That's true. How is she, by the way?"

The memory of the last hour with Sarah and the Oracle flashed through Seraph's mind. "Why? Do you care?"

"Not in the least. I was only asking out of curiosity, not actual concern." He paused for a moment to take a leisurely sip of his drink before he continued. "How did it feel, Seraph, to finally possess the woman you love after I was done with her?" At Seraph's blank look, Smith could not refrain from rolling his eyes. "Less than an hour after I had her the other night, she goes running off to you and then you have her as well. She was quite busy that night wasn't she?"

Seraph stiffened at the slur on Sarah's honour, but said nothing. Unfortunately, Smith was speaking the truth and they both knew it.

"Face the facts, Seraph, what you had was my sloppy seconds. But, you are free to have her from now on. I got what I wanted from her without too much difficulty or effort on my part. All I had to do to fuck her that first time was to get her tipsy and she readily spread her legs for me. Moreover, we must not forget your forbidding her to have anything to do with me only made her want to be with me even more. Besides, now that my other selves are done with her, she is nothing more than damaged goods to me."

"What did you just call her?" Seraph said in a strangled whisper, his throat constricting.

Smith shrugged. "Damaged goods--isn't that the correct term for a woman who is no longer a virgin or has been raped?"

"You bastard."

"When you worked for the Frenchman, you yourself slapped around a few women who owed him money. So it's a little late to preach or point fingers in my direction when your own hands are far from clean in that respect."

Smith narrowed his eyes and peered at Seraph. "I know how many times you had a woman beg and plead for either more time to pay up or make you stop hitting her. Women will say and do anything if the pain we inflicted on them at the time got too great."

"You hurt a lot more of them than I ever could," Seraph retorted.

"Yes, I did, and I admit that freely and openly. However, here is the difference between us: I hurt men and women primarily to get information, valuable information that was essential to the survival of the Matrix, whereas you hurt people for money. Nothing more, nothing less. So get off your sanctimonious high horse and drop your holier-than-thou attitude about how much you've changed for the better.

I know where you come from, Seraph, and I know what you've done to countless women in your time. Not only that, I know that there were a few times in your past when you took a woman up on her offer of performing a sexual act on you in order to buy her a little time to get the Frenchman money she owed him. Deny that if you can."

"I am ashamed of what I have done in the past and I do not deny anything that you've said. However, I am no longer that man, Smith, I've changed." I _have_ changed, Seraph thought to himself. "The Oracle made me see the error of my ways and its inevitable path to self-destruction and self-loathing. Now I can look into the mirror and not be ashamed of my own reflection." However, there _was_ a time when I could not look at myself at the end of the day, Seraph recalled sadly. It was a week before Sarah made that appointment for me to see the Oracle….

"_Please!" the woman begged, "I just need more time! I'll get the money, I promise!"_

"_You've had two extensions on your loan as it is. The Merovingian has been patient with you long enough and you are going to pay the price for reneging on your obligation," Seraph snarled angrily at the woman who was on her knees on the hard concrete floor of the deserted garage. He had taken her to that location on purpose; no one would be able to see or hear the shot he would soon deliver to the back of her head. _

_In their previous encounter, he had beaten her as a warning that her continued failure to pay what she owed was not going to be tolerated any longer. His efforts to convince her were still visible—the bruises on her body were slowly turning from vivid purple to a mottled greenish-yellow now. When only a meagre amount of what she owed was delivered, the Frenchman decreed her immediate demise._

_Deliberately and purposefully, Seraph loaded the gun in his hand as the woman watched him put only one bullet into the chamber._

"_I'm only going to need one," he said with a sinister smile, and met her eyes with his own as she followed every movement he made. _

"_Please, I'll do anything you ask. Anything!" she implored. "Please don't do this; I'm going to have a baby!"_

"_Why should the fact that you are able to breed concern me in any way?" Seraph said coldly. You humans breed as prolifically as rodents, he thought disgustedly and his lip curled in a sneer. To ascertain whether or not she was telling him the truth, he analyzed her Matrix code and found her statement to be truthful. She was indeed with child; she was carrying two, as it turned out. He had killed pregnant women for the Frenchman before, but never one who was going to have more than one offspring._

_For a long moment, he pondered what to do. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her in meticulous detail, assessing everything and missing nothing, Even with her black eye she is not unattractive, he thought, and her expectant state is not immediately obvious; she must be nearly four months along in her pregnancy but she isn't showing that much. _

_His eyes lingered on her swelling bosom; in a couple of months, he thought, her breasts will be quite large as they prepared to supply her child with nourishment. Mammals nurse their young--but it is only in human females that breasts are used not only for food but more importantly, their function is to entice and provoke the males of the species into procreating with the females. Now I understand the reasoning behind that, he pondered, for even though she is a human, I find that part of her anatomy alluring as well._

_Feeling his gaze upon her, the woman did not dare raise her eyes and possibly run the risk inciting his anger. Her female intuition told her that he was hesitating; perhaps he could be convinced to let me go, she thought with a glimmer of hope and waited for him to make a decision of some sort._

_He smiled to himself as he remembered what the Merovingian's other muscle for hire had once told him: "Wingless, trust me on this one. Women will promise almost anything--even give you the use of their bodies if you threaten to kill them. It is one of the perks of the job, you might say. And it's not like Mero to mind what we do, anyway. He is a Frenchman after all—having sex in any form is all they live for and he won't get on our case for doing what we have to to get some for ourselves."_

_Now is as good a time as any to test out that theory, Seraph thought to himself. Besides, it has been too long since I had any action of that sort._

"_All right, I'll take you up on that offer," he said, returning the gun to its holster. In the crudest terms he could think of, he told her exactly what he wanted from her…._

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_After he was finished with her, he returned to the apartment he shared with Sarah. As soon as he saw her, he drew her into his embrace and hugged her tightly._

"_Promise me something, Sarah," he whispered, "promise me that if you ever need extra money, you'll come to me first and _not_ the Merovingian. Promise me!" he said, his voice insistent. I do not want you to be humiliated and degraded by acts his goons will demand on you if you are late in repayment. I cannot bear the thought of that—of having another man do to you what I did to that woman, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut in painful remembrance. _

_I probably harmed her unborn children with the force I used in order to satisfy my lust. I've hurt women before; many of them, so why is this one different from any of the others? Was it because she was carrying two babies and not just one?_ _She was going to have twins—a boy and a girl. Just like Sarah and me. _

_Unconsciously he tightened his embrace and took comfort in feeling her body so close to his. After what happened tonight, I will remain celibate from this time forward. I cannot risk hurting another woman ever again—but the main reason is that the only woman I wish to be with is the one I am holding in my arms at this very moment._

_It only just occurred to me that I am just one more in the Frenchman's gang of thugs. I used to pride myself that I was better than they, that they were nothing but trained dogs who do their master's bidding but after what I did tonight, I realize that I am no better than they are, he thought. In fact, I _am exactly_ like them. I've hurt women before; many of them, so why is this one different from any of the others? _

_However, it wasn't until I came home tonight and held Sarah in my arms that I realized how much I hate working for him; mindlessly following his orders with no will of my own and being obligated to laugh at his stupid jokes. But what I despise most of all is coming home every night and lie to you, Sarah, about what I've done during my day at work. If you knew even a part of the awful things I have to do for him on a daily basis, you would turn from me in disgust and revulsion and that is something I could not bear, not even for a moment._

_As a result, I come home to you each and every night and lie to your face, hiding the truth deep inside of me. I suppose it keeps company with the other thing I dare not tell you—I love you, Sarah. Not as a sister, but the kind of love that a man feels for a woman._

"_Are you all right, Seraph?" Sarah asked softly._

_He shook his head and for a long time, he did not answer._

"_What's bothering you?" she said, stroking his cheek with her hand and looking deep into his eyes. She could not help but see that they were full of sadness and anguish and her heart twisted within her for she wished she knew how to make him feel better. However, upon further reflection, she realized that there was someone who could—the program known throughout the Matrix as the Oracle. Maybe she can give him some insight and advice that will enable him to break out of the dark moods that envelop and torment him to this extent. It's worth a try._

"_You should see the Oracle, Seraph," Sarah said. "Maybe she can help with whatever is troubling you so much. Who knows? It might even make you feel better."_

_He nodded his agreement, still saying nothing. Perhaps I should see her—whatever she has to say cannot possibly make me feel worse than I already do right now…_

"See? I knew the memories from your true self would come back," Smith said with a triumphant gleam in his eye as he saw the look on his visitor's face. "And you call yourself a changed man," he scoffed in derision before turning away to stare into the crackling fire that filled the fireplace. "You probably already know that it was in front of this very fireplace that I had her for the first time, but did you know that it was here that I _tasted_ her as well?"

In a sensual manner, Smith ran his tongue over his lips to emphasize his point as he reflected on that activity. He smirked when he saw Seraph swallow and turn his face away but not before Smith caught a glimpse of the hurt look that had been there.

"It was kind of sweet and salty at the same time, if I recall correctly. Haven't you found that yourself, Seraph? Or are you still so prim and proper that you haven't done that to her, or any woman, for that matter? It can be a bit messy for the man who is doing it, that is true, but when we are in that position, _we_ are the ones who are in control; _we_ are the ones who decide if the woman we are with at the time shall be allowed to have her orgasm or not. We get to play God. The power and control we wield in that moment is very intoxicating. Or do you think that performing that particular sexual act on a woman is disgusting? I don't."

You don't know how wrong you are, Smith, Seraph thought. Despite what you may think, I am perfectly familiar with the giving and receiving of that act of physical intimacy and I am not repulsed by the fact that Sarah had oral sex performed on her; I am only disgusted that she shared such an intimate gesture with _you._

He looked at Seraph, but he showed no emotion whatsoever. Interesting, Smith thought. But wait, I will provoke you into a response.

"Did you know that when a woman is sexually aroused, her secretions become sweeter to the taste to her partner? You didn't know that—why am I not surprised? After all, my experiences with women outnumber yours to such an enormous degree, that if I were to die tomorrow, you could spend the rest of your days fucking Sarah every single night and you _still_ would not come close, if you'll pardon the expression, to matching me." He gave Seraph a sidelong glance and was perturbed that he had not moved a muscle or showed any emotion.

"Get out of here, Seraph; you're beginning to bore me," Smith said, walking up to him and looking directly into his eyes. When he spoke, he dropped his voice until Seraph had to strain to hear him. "When you leave here, take this thought with you: she has tasted _me_ as well, you know." He knew he had hit a nerve with his visitor when he saw a muscle in Seraph's jaw twitch in response to his statement and decided to drive the knife of jealousy a bit deeper into Seraph's heart.

"Picture this, if you will. My flesh deep inside her mouth, her tongue licking me and when I came, she eagerly swallowed every drop." He chuckled dryly. "Just imagine where her lips were less than twenty minutes before you kissed her, Seraph—they were wrapped tightly around my cock." Smith leaned closer until his mouth was nearly touching Seraph's ear. "I'll bet the little minx—I mean, the little _vegetable_ as she is now--didn't even have the consideration to brush her teeth before she ran off to be with you, did she?"

When Smith saw his guest's fist clench and his face flush, he knew that his statement had hit home. What Smith was not expecting was the passion of Seraph's reaction to it. Seraph drew his fist back and punched his enemy squarely in the mouth.

The unexpectedness of the attack caught Smith completely off guard and he staggered backward, the brandy glass falling out of his grip and hitting the floor, shattering the crystal snifter and sending pieces of glass everywhere and it was only by using his agent reflexes that Smith managed to stay on his feet.

Not waiting to see the effect of his first strike, Seraph rained a flurry of blows, both martial and straight-out punches--that would not have been out of place in a common barroom brawl--down on Smith.

"Well, well," Smith said, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, "the real Seraph is finally coming back into the light after all these years."

Smith was a much more powerful program than his opponent, but Seraph's anger gave him strength and speed far beyond normal, rendering the former agent incapable of responding to the multitude and ferocity of his visitor's attacks. Sheer unadulterated rage gave Seraph the strength and speed to overcome Smith's reflexes. Seraph smiled thinly when he saw the look of incredulous disbelief that came over Smith's face.

"What's the matter, old man?" Seraph jeered. "Have you become too aged and decrepit to defend yourself anymore? Or can it be that I have finally gotten the better of the great Agent Smith--the leader of all the agents and the one program whom no one could beat?"

He aimed a punch at Smith's nose and felt the bone break under his fist. Seraph felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his system and the pleasure of it was almost sexual in its intensity. His cheeks became flushed with sheer joy and triumph surged to the very end of his fingertips as hot blood spurted from Smith's nose. Smith staggered from the blow and fell to his knees and Seraph took advantage of every opportunity of slamming his fist and foot into any unguarded areas on Smith's body.

"How do you like it, Smith, to be hurt and humiliated?" Seraph sneered, as he stood over him, an uncharacteristic feeling of malicious pleasure in the pain he knew he was causing his opponent. He surveyed the damage he had inflicted on Sarah's violator: a broken nose, a split lip and a thoroughly blackened eye. And if the swelling on the left side of Smith's face was any indication, he had a fractured cheekbone as well.

He watched with savage and primal delight as blood from those injuries streamed down Smith's face and neck, spoiling the pristine whiteness of his shirt. Not to mention that Smith was wheezing and coughing up blood with each laboured breath he took, it would appear that I have broken at least two or three ribs and his lung has been punctured or damaged. He will have to manipulate the Matrix to rid himself of those injuries, Seraph thought to himself. But he and I will both know what I have done here and on his own turf no less.

The darkest part of his nature wanted to remain and beat Smith further, but he did not give in to those feelings. Sarah needs me now, and I have done what I set out to do.

But there is still something that needs to be done before my work here is complete. Seraph bent down and dipped the fingers of his right hand in Smith's blood that was still streaming from his nose. With careful attention, Seraph pulled aside the neckline of his black tank top and over his heart, drew a symbol; it was taken from the ancient language of his warrior ancestors thousands of years ago when their culture ruled much of the Eastern civilized world.

Smith's eyes followed every movement Seraph made, and his lip curled when he saw what he had written: Conqueror. With a few strokes of his finger, Seraph quickly drew another symbol in his own blood on Smith's forehead and Smith did not need to be told what it meant, he already knew. Conquered.

Seraph straightened up and shrugged his clothes back into place. "I have beaten you."

"For the first and only time, Seraph. You only won tonight because I made the error of underestimating you. However, you are going to find that you will regret that you did not kill me," Smith jeered, "and much sooner than you think."

Seraph said nothing as he turned and left Smith's apartment. Unlike you, Smith, I have no need to brag about my victory. Fate was with me today but that may not be the case the next time we meet.

"_This - is - what - you - get - for - fucking - around - with - yakuzas! Go home to your mother!" The svelte woman in the blood spattered yellow and black outfit yelled angrily to the frightened young man who was her last opponent. Using the flat side of her katana, she delivered a spank after each word to his bottom--to drive home her point that he was far too young to be involved with gangs at his age…_

Damn great movie, Smith thought as he picked himself off the floor and spat out a mouthful of blood. With the one eye he could still see out of, he surveyed the damage done to his living room and the three copies that still did not get up from where they had fallen. At least Seraph had the decency not to fuck around with my television, he reflected with a wry smile.

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The dark-suited copy slowly and silently moved away from Sarah's door. After Seraph had left to seek out and avenge himself on him, Smith had had one of his copies quietly station itself outside Sarah's apartment door to eavesdrop on any and all conversations that took place within. My creator certainly was right: one never knows what interesting tidbits of useful information can be gleaned from simply listening at keyholes, it thought to itself. I must pass this information on as soon as possible.

The clone closed its eyes and communicated the complete stream of dialogue it had overheard between the Oracle and the Architect to the one who had created him. When Smith had received and interpreted the complete transmission, he smiled, disregarding the sear of pain from his injuries it cost him to do it.

"Congratulate me, boys," he said to the three fallen clones as he lent them a hand in rising from the floor. "I don't have any cigars to pass around so brandy will have to do. We are going to be a father."


	11. Drawing a Blank

Drawing a Blank

"How is she?" Seraph demanded, looking to the faces of his parents. He had run nearly all the way back to Sarah's apartment after his encounter with Smith and a few of his clones and he was panting heavily.

"She's resting now; that's what she needs the most. What about you?" the Oracle asked, taking his hand in hers and examining it. The skin over his knuckles had burst and his nose was bleeding. She lightly fingered a bruise that was beginning to swell under his eye. She knew that she would have to repair the bruises on his body that he would have in a few days so that Sarah would not know that he even had them or how he acquired them in the first place. But first things first. She took him by the arm and sat down beside him on the sofa.

"Seraph, there is something your father and I have to tell you before you go to see her."

Seraph swallowed and nodded. "Is it about Sarah?"

"Yes, son, it is. You see, I've erased her memories from the last few hours."

"Everything?"

"No, not entirely. The last thing she will remember is falling to the floor after Smith slapped her, but nothing after that. And it is our intention that that is _all_ she will remember. Only you, I, your father, and Smith will know what happened afterward."

Seraph frowned. "But if he sees her again, won't he tell her?" I can see Smith now, Seraph thought angrily—bragging to her, filling the gaps of her memory with all the sordid details that had been wiped from her mind so she will not be able to recall his assault on her.

"That's where you come in. I want you to stay with Sarah from now on and prevent Smith from filling in the missing period of her memory. I know as well as you do that he will tell her the first opportunity he gets."

The Oracle turned her head away and bit her lip from telling her son and protector about the life that was already growing inside of the belly of the badly injured woman Seraph loved in the other room. I have no right to keep this from you, she thought, but until I can rectify matters, I have no choice. Afterward, I will tell you everything but for now, it is best that you not know the truth.

"Can I stay with her until she wakes up?" Seraph asked, not questioning her about the strange look that had been in her eyes a moment ago.

"Only if you don't wake her—the recuperative program I've installed will take a while to repair and restore her faculties to its normal parameters."

"How long will that take?"

"About six or seven hours."

_Six or seven hours?_ Seraph thought, aghast. If I had known this earlier, I would've killed Smith instead of inflicting mostly superficial injuries on him. Smith was right—I now regret not killing him when I had the chance. Son of a bitch.

"Seraph, don't even think about running off to find Smith again," the Oracle warned. "Sarah needs you. _I_ need you." She took his hand and held it. "What would I do without you? Who would let me cheat at checkers if not you?"

She was encouraged when she saw him attempt a smile at her small joke, then just as quickly, the smile was gone.

"Oracle, what if Sarah becomes pregnant?" The thunderclap of silence that followed the question and the look on his mother's face confirmed his worst fears. "Oh God," he whispered, "She already is, isn't she? Isn't she?" Seraph took the Oracle by her shoulders and shook her hard. "Tell me!"

"Don't talk to your mother that way," the Architect demanded, extricating the Oracle from the iron grip of their son. "But to answer your question, yes, Sarah is pregnant. I'm sorry, Seraph," he said with gruff gentleness.

Even though he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, Seraph asked anyway. "The child isn't mine, is it?"

His parents did not answer and Seraph held his head in his hands. The Oracle put her arm around his shoulders.

"Look at me, Seraph," she commanded but he would not raise his head to obey her. He couldn't. "But I am going to change that. I couldn't do it earlier because there were complications…" She hesitated for a moment and then told him everything—about how her intentions to change the paternity caused Smith's child to threaten Sarah's life so she would back off. "But, your father and I will find a way to rectify this matter, just you wait and see," she finished, her voice filled with a confidence she was far from feeling.

The ramifications of what she had just told him caused Seraph to jerk his head up sharply. "Complications? The child was going to hurt its own mother so you wouldn't proceed?"

The Oracle paused, and then resolutely decided that since her son had already guessed the truth, he deserved to know everything, risks and all. "Yes, and that's why I've decided to wait until we can come up with some other strategy. Where are you going?" she asked, as she saw him rise from the sofa.

"I'm going to stay with Sarah for a while. I need time to think."

He opened the door to Sarah's bedroom and closed the door behind him silently so that she would not be disturbed. He sat down beside her and held her hand, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as the repair program her mother installed to heal her damaged body and erase the horrible memories from her mind did its work. All of her primary functions excluding life support needed to be rebooted and each sub-program had to be restored, line by line. Small wonder it would take so long.

By examining her code, Seraph could see for himself how badly she had been injured internally and sorrow overtook him. You do not know it yet, but you are carrying the child of the monster who did this to you, he thought. Nevertheless, I will not allow the Oracle to change the paternity of your—_our_—child. I cannot risk losing you simply to salve my pride that the new life inside of you is not my own. You are far too weak to undergo anything else and that includes what the Oracle wishes to do. You will need all your strength for the efforts that you must make to make yourself healthy and strong again. And if what the Oracle said is true, the baby inside of you has already been able thwart her intentions even if it is only a few hours old. When it grows even stronger, what will it be able to do to you if it feels threatened again?

Our parents and I will be the only ones who will know the truth about who the child's father is and that is the way it will remain. He watched over her for hours until his eyes grew heavy with the need for sleep. Seraph could feel each of the blows Smith's copies delivered to his body and his muscles were beginning to ache. He heard the soft tread of his mother as she entered. She patted his shoulder reassuringly as she too looked at Sarah. "See? She _is_ getting better. Slowly but surely she will mend. And now, you need your rest as well."

Seraph didn't argue with his mother's wisdom. She is right, he thought. I have to repair the damage that Smith and his clones inflicted on me tonight. Otherwise, all Sarah will have to do is take one look at me to know something is wrong and the last she needs right now is to worry about me.

"Oracle?"

"What is it, son?"

When he turned to face her, she could see the exhaustion in his face, but she also saw resolution and determination written there as well. Being who she was, she already knew what he was going to say and waited to hear the words for herself.

Even though Sarah appeared to be sound asleep, there was no way to know if she could hear them or not and Seraph was not going to take any chances. Seraph waited until the door was closed behind them and they were well out of earshot of Sarah before continuing.

"Do not change anything in Sarah, all right? Let her think the child is mine," he said. He looked into his mother's eyes and they understood one another.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sarah has been through enough. Let her rest. We will raise it together and I will love it as if it were my own."

"What if Smith finds out and comes to claim either Sarah or the child? Have you considered that? Remember how far he went to find Bronwyn and her baby? He made her and Jones' life a living hell once he discovered where they were. And do you remember _how_ he found them in the first place—it was because of the powerful subconscious connection he had with his unborn daughter. Think about this, Seraph: this time, his child is inside a program, not a human. The bond between them will be even stronger. It's still not too late to change things; will you promise me to think about it at least?"

"At what cost, Mother? Sarah's very life, if you fail?" Seraph snapped.

"We don't know that for sure. Just give us some time to find a way."

"Well, I don't want to take that chance. I can't…no, I _won't_ lose her and that's final. Oracle?" Seraph asked, turning toward her once more. "In time, will she be able to have more children?"

The Oracle sighed. "It's too soon to tell, Seraph. I'm sorry. Let's deal with the present before worrying about the future."

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Unbeknownst to those who loved and were concerned for her, a memory was beginning to awaken in Sarah's deep sub-conscious…

_Her knees began to hurt from their unrelenting contact with her hardwood floor. It was a toss up which hurt more—her knees or her hands which were bound tightly behind her. She tried to forget the painful throbbing between her legs; but at least this was a respite, of sorts. It would hurt even more if I were lying down, she reasoned with herself._

_She looked up triumphantly at the copy who had made the error of getting his fingers too close to her mouth in tying his tie so that she could be gagged. Sarah had bided her time until his fingers touched her lips inadvertently and she seized her moment, biting down as hard as she could on his digits causing him to utter several choice expletives and slap her hard across her face in retaliation._

"_What do we do now?" he asked, shaking his hand to ease the pain in his fingers._

_The clone that seemed to be in charge looked down at the woman at his feet and smirked. "Since she wants to have something in her mouth so badly, I think we can oblige her." He smiled wickedly at his companions and they understood one another and chuckled malevolently in unison. He reached into his sidearm holster on his left side and drew out his formidable Desert Eagle. At the same time, yanking Sarah by her hair so that he could look her in the eyes._

"_You can't hurt me," Sarah said contemptuously. "Smith didn't give you permission." _

"_Oh, I'm not going to shoot you, I'm just going to teach you a lesson." He put the barrel of the gun against her lips, but Sarah would not open her mouth. "Take this in your mouth or I will break all of your goddamn teeth if I have to."_

_After taking a look at the expression in his eyes, she acquiesced, grimacing at the taste of cold hard steel as it entered her mouth. _

"_That's it," the clone crooned softly, "take it all in." _

_She started to gag as he buried the entire length of the muzzle in her mouth. With her hands still tied behind her back and another of Smith's copies standing behind her and holding her head steady between his hands, there was no way that she could fight back. The clone in front of her thrust the gun into her mouth repeatedly, inserting and withdrawing it in a gruesome parody of the act of intercourse. _

_Her eyes opened in time to see his finger tighten on the trigger. He is getting ready to shoot me! Horrified, she felt the steel became warm and pliable like flesh—hard and smooth--inside her mouth. _

_Oh my God, she thought, it is no longer his gun, it is his…no! In another moment, she felt a rush of thick, hot salty liquid surge from his member and flow deep into her oral cavity, followed by the harsh laughter of the copies that bore the face of the man she hated more than any other…._

Sarah's eyes flew open and immediately the feeling of gagging and choking churned through her stomach. Knowing without question that she would not be able to make it to the bathroom before becoming sick, she leaned over the side of her bed and vomited onto the floor. For what seemed like an eternity, Sarah threw up the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left but dry heaves.

Exhausted from her efforts, she fell back onto her bed, trying to ignore the smell of her vomit and focus her mind on something else. What woke me up was the feeling that something warm yet hard had been forced into my mouth and down my throat until I felt like I was going to choke—what started out to be his gun somehow morphed into his penis. She shuddered.

Hazy, disjointed images from her nightmare drifted before her eyes like a thick fog—of being struck on the head and then pain as she was forced to…what? What was I being forced to do, she thought, why was I feeling such pain? What was being done to me?

Try as she might, she could delve no further into her subconscious. To hell with it. It was just a stupid dream and I have more important things to worry about—namely, taking a shower and then cleaning up the mess I made, in that order.

When she stepped into her living room, she was surprised to see her parents and Seraph waiting for her.

"What are you all doing here?" Sarah asked, pleased but surprised. She winced slightly from the strength of the embrace Seraph gave her and she returned it as best she could, not seeing the look her visitors exchanged with one another behind her back. So far, so good, it said.

"We wanted to see if you were all right, Sarah," her mother said, embracing her in her turn. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Sarah frowned as she realized that her memories were like her dream—unfocused, disorganized, and made her head hurt the more she tried to remember. "Not really; I'm kind of drawing a blank. Why? What happened?"

"Smith hit you yesterday afternoon and you blacked out," Seraph said quietly. He was glad that Sarah was not looking at him for if she had been, she would have known immediately that he was lying. Even when we were growing up, she could always tell when I was not telling the truth, he thought to himself. I hate this deception that Mother, Father and I have had to perpetrate on her about the events from yesterday, but we have no choice. Sarah must never know.

"How is it possible that I've been unconscious until now?"

"You are forgetting that he still has his agent strength, Sarah," the Oracle interjected gently. "He can punch through a brick wall as easily as if it were made of foam. It would take very little effort on his part to hurt you as badly as he did."

"But why did he hit me in the first place? Never mind," she said quickly, as she saw Seraph about to answer her question. "I don't want to know," Sarah said angrily. "All I want to do right now is take a shower and forget the whole thing." Like that's going to be difficult, she thought, when I can't remember a damn thing anyway.

"We'll come by later and see how you're doing," the Oracle said, kissing her. You are almost as good as new, she thought as she examined her daughter's code and her eyes met those of the Architect as he, too, gave Sarah a peck on the cheek. Sarah tried to conceal her astonishment at this completely unheard of display of affection from her father, but the Oracle saw the look on her face. Damn old fool nearly ruined everything. She looked over the rim of her spectacles and frowned at him.

Filling up the bathtub, Sarah sat in the water hugging her knees. What haven't they told me about Smith? I should have known something was wrong; Father has never, _ever_, shown me much affection and out of the blue, he kisses me on the cheek. Something is definitely going on here, Sarah thought, but what are they not telling me? Did Smith do more to me than what they're saying? What are they hiding?

Her head started to hurt the more she tried to force herself to remember, and the pain increased. Okay, okay, I get the point, she told herself crossly.

What Sarah did not know was that her body remembered all the things that had been done to it during those hours that she was being violated and delayed sensory reaction covered her like a blanket of ice, causing her to shiver and shake uncontrollably. Even with the tap turned to full hot, she wasn't able to feel warm again.

I can't stay in this damn tub forever, she admonished herself and made a gargantuan effort to haul herself out. She stood for a long time in front of the mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, examining her nude form with a discriminating eye. She did not find what she had been looking for—bruises or any discolourations on her body that could be used to justify the overly solicitous treatment she had received from her parents and Seraph when she came out of her bedroom.

The Oracle's program had eliminated all of the internal and external damage done by Smith's clones as they held her down and exacted the revenge their creator had ordered performed on Sarah. With particular attention, she examined her face, shoulders and neck for any sign of a blow from a man who retained his agent strength, but the Oracle had foreseen her intentions and wiped any trace of violence away, leaving her skin flawless and light, just as it always had been.

I am still so thin, she thought glumly, running her hands over her breasts and over the slight curve of her slender hips. My breasts seem to be a little bigger, and I'm getting a bit of a paunch around my belly, but other than that, there is nothing out of the ordinary here. I am still the same old skinny Sarah I always was. She winced as she felt a fresh quiver of nausea, but she swallowed cautiously and forced herself to breathe deeply and eventually the feeling passed.

When she came out of the bathroom, her parents were gone and she was alone with Seraph. He was at her kitchen table sitting with his elbows on the table and his head between his palms. Thinking she could cheer him up, she crept up behind him and put her arm across his chest, bringing her cheek next to his.

When he didn't respond, she nibbled his ear affectionately, knowing since their childhood that that was a sensitive area to the touch. It was only during their intimate encounter however, that she discovered it stimulated and aroused him as well. He flinched when she ran her tongue along and around the convolutions of his ear and it took a lot of self-control for Seraph not to take Sarah in his arms when her warm, moist mouth began tracing the line of his jaw.

"No Sarah, don't," he said hoarsely.

"Why not?" she asked coyly, her small hands slipping around his neck as she manoeuvred herself so that she was sitting on his lap, "there's no one to see; Mother and Father have left, remember?"

"I know," Seraph whispered, as he felt himself respond to the nearness of Sarah's warm and still damp body. Everything that was masculine within him wanted to feel her skin under him, around him, but he did not dare. Sarah, if you only knew what had been done to you less than 24 hours ago, you would be hiding under the covers of your bed, knees drawn tightly up to your chin to protect and shield yourself from the gaze—and touch—of any man, even me.

Just by looking at you, I can tell that the Oracle's program did its work—you are restored, rejuvenated, and back to your normal self, but I cannot and will not allow my baser needs to shatter your recovery by using your body the same way _he_ did. There will be a time for us to become intimate again, but that time is not now. Gently, he disentangled her arms from around his neck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing; I just don't want to, that's all," he mumbled and Seraph had to turn his eyes away so Sarah could not see that he was lying to her. No woman wants to be told that the man she loves doesn't want to be with her and Sarah was no different from her human sisters in that respect. Still, she tried to convince him otherwise by placing her mouth over his and kissing him, while her hand was occupied with stroking his member through his trousers. She felt it harden completely under her touch and she smiled to herself. You may think you do not wish to make love to me, Seraph, but your body is telling me something completely different.

"Sarah, I SAID NO!" Seraph said firmly, pushing her to the floor in his haste to get her too-tempting body away from his before anything else she did threatened his tenuous hold on what little self-control he still had left. Sarah landed on her bottom on the floor and gaped at him, her lower lip trembling as she tried to contain all the hurt she was feeling from his rebuff of her attentions.

"Fine!" she shouted, and rejected any attempt on his part to help her to her feet. "I can get up by myself," she snapped. With as much dignity as she could muster, she got up and stalked to her bedroom, her head held high. As soon as she heard the door behind her close, she fell on the bed in a paroxysm of weeping.

lllll

Seraph listened to her tears from the other side of the door and cursed his helplessness to rectify the situation and ease her pain. "I had no choice; I'm sorry," he said, _sotto voce. _Perhaps someday I will be able to make you understand that I had to do it and ask for your forgiveness, but for now, I am forced to let you think that I am a unfeeling, cold-hearted bastard when all I want now is to take you in my arms and love you the way you wanted.


	12. Driven to Desperation

**Driven to Desperation**

**Warning: **The next two chapters deal with the highly controversial subject of termination of a pregnancy, also known as abortion. If this subject matter is too personal or offends your beliefs in any way, then do not read this chapter and the one after it.

Author's Note: I know that in the sequels, the time between "Reloaded" and "Revolutions" is only a matter of hours, but I had to use a little artistic license and lengthen the time between them to over a week so the timeline of Sarah's pregnancy could fit properly into my story.

lllll

For two successive mornings, Sarah had awoken nauseous and ill. As she hunched over the bowl of the toilet and vomited yet again, an idea of what was making her ill came to her mind and she forgot about her illness. Can I be pregnant, she wondered, a joyous smile suffusing over her face. I have to see Mother about this; she will know for certain. She quickly got to her feet and hurriedly brushed her teeth before leaving the bathroom. As she had expected, Seraph had already gone and Sarah dashed around the apartment finishing getting dressed and left.

"Mother," Sarah said in the Oracle's kitchen a short while later, "I've been a little sick these last two mornings and I was wondering…"

She raised her eyes to her mother's face and the Oracle could see how desperately Sarah wanted her mother to confirm what Sarah herself had already suspected. I know what has been making you ill, the Oracle thought, and if you only knew the truth, you would not be so happy about it, believe me. But I will not be the one to shatter your dreams concerning the life you are carrying within you by telling you that Smith is the father of your baby, not Seraph.

"Yes, Sarah, you are pregnant," the Oracle said solemnly, but Sarah neither noticed nor cared that her mother told her this news with a grim expression on her face. Sarah clapped her hands in joy and hugged the Oracle tightly.

"I'm so happy, Mother! I have to get home and tell Seraph! Won't he be surprised when he finds out?" Sarah asked happily.

He already knows, the Oracle thought sadly. She put on a brave face and congratulated Sarah as convincingly as she could.

As Smith had once done to Bronwyn, he had one of his other selves station itself across the street from her place so he could be kept up to date of her whereabouts at all times. The clone had his orders; he was not to approach Sarah in any way nor was he to impede her movements. His instructions were to keep watch and report to his creator where Sarah went and with whom. He reported to Smith that Sarah had gone to see her mother and how long the visit had lasted.

lllll

"Sarah, where were you?" Seraph asked as soon as she came through the door. Instead of responding, Sarah threw herself into his arms and embraced him.

"I just came back from Mom's and she told me some wonderful news, Seraph. I just found out that we're going to have a baby!" Sarah exclaimed. Her smile faded at the expression on his face. Instead of being happy, Seraph looked anything but. He did not smile or say a word; he merely turned his back so Sarah could not see the pain that wrenched his heart.

"I'm glad," he said woodenly, doing his best to appear pleased by her announcement. _Remember, _the Oracle had told him, _in order for Sarah to think the child is yours, you have to give the impression that you are overjoyed with the news. For if you allow your true feelings to be seen, Sarah will know that something is not as it should be and she will begin to ask questions about your lack of pleasure from her news. I know it will be one of the hardest things you will ever have to do, but you must be convincing enough so Sarah will not be suspicious. _

"I thought you'd be happy," Sarah said hesitantly. "I mean, it's our first child, but you don't seem to care…"

"I _do _care, Sarah, and I am happy," Seraph responded, taking her shoulders in his hands. "This is wonderful news. It just came as a bit of a shock, that's all."

Feeling buoyed by his change of emotion, she took his hand and guided it to her belly. "I can't feel any movement yet, but I should be able to very soon."

Seraph jerked his hand away from her womb as if touching her skin burned him. I will pretend to be happy for your sake Sarah, Seraph thought, but do not ask me to feel _his _child move within you.

lllll

To Smith's annoyance, Sarah did not venture outside of her apartment for several days. Morning sickness, he surmised. Perhaps it is for the best; for I know that many female programs have lost their offspring during the first week of pregnancy and the longer she is pregnant, the stronger my child will be. I know that everything is progressing normally because of the communication between my child and me. I can wait to see Sarah, there is no hurry; besides, she won't be going anywhere.

The next time Smith saw Sarah, his eyes were immediately drawn to her swelling waistline. Since Sarah was naturally slender in build, her pregnancy was obvious now to anyone who knew her. As with Bronwyn when she still was pregnant, Smith felt his offspring was aware of his presence. The child moved sharply within its mother and Smith watched as she put her hand against her womb when she felt it stir, smiling softly to herself as she did.

Moving quickly through the crowd of people, it did not take Smith long to reach her side. Coming up behind Sarah, Smith reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. As she turned around, the smile on her face disappeared immediately when she saw who it was.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," he said in his usual drawling tone. "Who is the father?" As if I don't already know, Smith thought smugly.

"Well, it sure as hell isn't you," she said happily, beaming at him.

"If that is what they told you, then all of them are lying through their teeth."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply.

"What do you remember of that day?"

"The day you hit me? I don't remember much; images, really. Nothing more."

"Would you like to know the rest? There are gaps in your memory about that time, isn't there? You've had doubts if what they told you was true, right? Would you like to know what they've kept from you? The blank spaces that, despite your best efforts, still continue to elude you?"

Sarah hesitated. He was offering to fill in the holes of her memory. Memories that had been taken away from her. Memories, no matter how bad, that belonged to her and was still being kept from her. Sarah would not have admitted it to Smith for the entire world, but she had remained awake late into the night for several nights running, desperately trying to force herself to remember something other than the one jolt of prophesy that had been revealed to her on the morning after.

_There is a very good reason for that, _her mind told her. _You will only discover pain and suffering if you persist in knowing everything that happened. Turn back now before it's too late. Walk away while you still can._

"The child you are carrying is mine," Smith said, "and I can prove it."

He put his hands on either side of her head. To the outside observer, the movement resembled a "Vulcan mind meld," but its purpose was far more sinister--for Smith was not interesting in knowing her thoughts; rather, he was bringing back memories that should have remained out of Sarah's reach forever.

lllll

A whirling maelstrom of images rushed before her eyes—of being forced down on the floor of her living room, fighting valiantly against the act she knew was going to be perpetrated on her… So that part with the gun did actually happen, she realized, a horrible wrenching, sinking sensation in her stomach being torn inside out or so it seemed. She could feel the nausea begin again and hoped she could keep it under control and not humiliate herself by vomiting all over Smith's expensive Italian shoes.

"No," she moaned, jerking herself out of Smith's grasp, thus ending the dreadful montage of her memories. Smith was right; there was little or no chance that anyone other than himself could be the father of her baby since she had been violated by Smith's other selves several times.

The odds were not in her favour for she had been intimate with Seraph only once. Still, all a woman needed to conceive was one time and Sarah clung to this thin ray of hope like a drowning person would cling to a weed. Determined not to believe what he was telling her, Sarah shook her head forcefully and negated the validity of the images Smith had shown her.

"No," she repeated. "It's not true. This child is Seraph's, not yours. You and your assimilated goons raped me several times but Seraph and I were together once; and in case you have forgotten your basic biology lessons, once is all a woman needs to become pregnant. What counts the most is proper timing--_quality_ not _quantity_, you egotistical bastard," she sneered. She jutted her chin at Smith an insolent challenge, daring him with a haughty glare in her face and eyes to disprove what she still hoped and prayed was the truth in spite what he had shown her thus far.

A rush of anger coupled with desire for her surged through Smith and he prepared to snake a long arm around Sarah's burgeoning waist and draw her close to him. She foresaw his objective and nimbly moved away out of his reach. Angered by her rejection of his advances, Smith clenched his hand into a fist and attempted to throw out a powerful left hook, but an instinct deep inside Sarah reacted for her since her mind could not, and without being aware of what she was doing, she easily dodged the punch.

Astonished at her new-found ability to move so quickly and successfully so that she could evade his intention of striking her, Sarah could only stare stupidly at Smith and he smiled smugly at her reaction.

"See? My powers have already manifested themselves in you through the child you are carrying; because only an agent has the speed and reflexes needed to dodge a blow like the one I just tried to deliver. _My_ child, Sarah, and I don't think you require any further proof of its paternity." Smith started to laugh; an evil mocking sound of his enjoyment at her dilemma reverberated all around her, filling her ears and mind to the point where she attempted to block out the sound by putting her hands hard against her head, but to no avail.

Horrified by the indisputable truth of her baby's parentage, she turned and fled away from him, not looking back and running as fast as she could, as if distancing herself now from him could physically alter what was growing inside of her. Her stomach churned, and Sarah barely had time to turn sharply into a dead-end alley before helplessly dispelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground where she had the least chance of being seen by other passers-by.

Shaken and still nauseous, Sarah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and waited until the feeling passed. Fumbling in her purse with one hand, she searched for the package of bubble gum that was buried at the bottom. When she found it, Sarah popped it into her mouth, chewing it quickly to rid herself of the taste of vomit.

The enormity of her situation overcame her and she hunched against the filthy brick wall, despair and anguish filling every circuit and every pore of her being. She gave in to her grief, holding back nothing, not caring who heard her or what they might think if they saw her—a well-dressed, pregnant young woman huddled in a darkened alley and sobbing as if her heart was breaking; when any other woman in her condition would have been happy and overjoyed by the thought of the life growing inside of her.

It was a long time before Sarah felt capable of moving. She was aware that a powerful headache was building behind her right eye and it would only be an hour or more before her migraine would become full blown in its extremity. She was physically and emotionally exhausted—the outburst of emotion she had just experienced robbed her of strength and the willpower to move, but Sarah forced her body to stand upright. Putting one foot in front of the other, she left the relative privacy and seclusion of the dirty alleyway for the busy and open thoroughfare of the shop-lined street.

What do I do now, she wondered, coming to a stop in front of a large department store's display of the upcoming season's newest fashion trends. She caught a glimpse of herself in the highly polished and spotless windows that reflected her image back to her. Instead of looking like a glowingly healthy expectant mother, she looked haggard and drained.

Why didn't I see I should have seen it before, she thought, as she continued to stare at her reflection. All of them knew who the father of this baby was—Mom, Dad and Seraph, but they didn't want me to know the truth. They didn't tell me! Instead, they all lied to me as if I were a child that had to be protected from the big bad world and everything that was rotten in it...Every one of them lied to me, she thought angrily. The three of them conspired with one another to keep the truth from me!

Tears of betrayal coursed down her cheeks. If any of them—Mom, Dad or Seraph had cared anything about me, they would have told me the truth from the very beginning, but they chose to compound this lie. Any time during the last few days, they still could have been honest with me.

It all makes perfect sense, why didn't I notice the signs of Seraph's odd behaviour earlier? Every time I even mentioned the baby, he would grow quiet and distant. _Now_ I understand why whenever I felt the baby kick, he was very reluctant to feel it for himself; I nearly had to force him. And when he did touch me, it was almost as if he was uninterested and unresponsive. I initially put it down to a case of nerves of being a new father, but he knew whose offspring I am carrying.

After that day, Seraph could never bring himself to touch me, and when I tried to instigate any intimate contact, he pulled away from me as if even the thought of being with me was repugnant in some way. I suppose that if I were in his shoes, I would probably do the same. In his eyes, I am tainted, infected with a revolting virus that makes him turn away in shame whenever he sees me. However, once I get rid of this thing inside of me, perhaps Seraph and I can go back to what we were before all of this nightmare happened.

I wonder how Bronwyn felt when she discovered she was also carrying Smith's child, Sarah thought to herself. Did she feel as I do, sickened and disgusted or was she happy when she learned the news? Did she ever, even for a moment, consider getting rid of the life that was growing inside of her and how did Jones feel about her pregnancy? When he felt the baby move inside of Bronwyn, was he as disgusted as Seraph seemed to be when he touched me? Or was Jones able to realize that the child, like its mother, was another innocent victim of Smith's actions? But most important of all, was he able to care and have feelings for the child even though it was not his own?

As if in response to her musings, the child within her kicked sharply. Annoyed that her thoughts had been interrupted, Sarah jabbed her belly harshly in retaliation. I hate what is growing inside of me, Sarah thought looking down at the swell of her distended abdomen. When I thought you were Seraph's child, I loved you more than anything. Now that I know the truth about your paternity, I hate and despise you; I want you out of my body and out of my life, you vile parasite, she cursed. You are the fruit of Smith's violation of my body for his own twisted perverse desire and amusement and it is you who will pay for the sins of your father. But how?

The sight of her bloated, coarsened figure in the glass sickened her and Sarah continued to wander along the street in a daze, not caring where she went, her mind desperately trying to come up with a solution for her dilemma. The angry blare of a car horn permeated her thoughts and angry oath from the driver awoke her from her contemplations.

"Jesus Christ, lady, watch where you're going! You wanna get yourself and your baby killed?"

Inadvertently, she had not paid attention to the traffic light that had turned red by this time and she found herself in the middle of the intersection, several cars weaving their way around to avoid hitting her, horns blaring as they went past her.

She murmured an apology and hastened to step onto the safety of the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Of course, she thought, that's my solution—I can get rid of this baby and be free of Smith forever, for his sole claim on me will be gone.

However, in my present condition, no certified ob/gyn will even consider doing a second trimester abortion, she thought. Because of the ridiculously short gestation period for female programs, it is already too late: for one of the principal laws governing programs in the Matrix is that after the first week of pregnancy, it is illegal to terminate a program's fetus regardless of the circumstances. If I can't do it with the consent of the law, then I will just have to get rid of this baby illegally. The method for the termination of an unborn child is the same as it would be for human mothers and if I can't find a licensed ob/gyn, then I will just have to find an unlicensed one, Sarah thought and there is only one person who can help me find the one I have in mind…Max would know where she is.

Sarah directed her steps towards to the dingy club where she had once sought refuge from the upgrades—the same place where she and Smith had met a lifetime ago. Sometimes, knowing the rats who run in the sewers can be useful, she thought to herself with a wry smile.

lllll

"Max, do you know where I can find that doctor friend of yours?" Sarah asked abruptly. "You know the one I mean, the one who can't practice medicine anymore."

His eyes scanned her figure with a surprised look. "Jeez, Sarah, it didn't take you long to get knocked up did it?" His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"It's not yours, if that's what you're thinking," Sarah snapped. "Can you help me or not?"

"Yeah, I know where she is; she's in hiding again."

"She got caught doing another procedure, didn't she?"

"Uh-huh. So she may not be anxious to hear from me."

"Tell her I will make it worth her while. I'll pay her whatever she wants." Sarah sensed his hesitation and took his arm. "Please, Max, for old time's sake, will you convince her to see me at least? I wouldn't ask, but it's important." When he still did not answer, Sarah knew what she had to do and she got to her feet. "Fine, Max, you won't help me, then I'll go down to Oak Street and let everyone there know that girls who live in the west end can't get help from you when they need it, they will now have to go uptown. And they will, too, taking the protection money they would have given you so you could hide them…"

"You don't have to do that," Max said hurriedly. Jesus, he thought, if she goes to my rival especially in _that_ neighbourhood, that a helluva lot of money I can't afford to lose. "Don't go, Sarah, I'll bring you to her; down here, we take care of our own."

lllll

"How far along are you?" the former physician asked Sarah, examining her with a light but competent touch.

"Almost a week," Sarah answered truthfully. She knew that the doctor was a program and lying to her wasn't going to solve anything—she knows the gestation period for our kind as well as I do. "If it helps any, the father is an agent, or was one."

That means that the pregnancy is going to be accelerated exponentially, the doctor thought. She didn't give me his name, but I don't need a degree in rocket science to figure that one out—from the three original agents, Jones and Brown have been deleted leaving only one name left. Smith.

Like all beings that no longer served their original purpose and were now running shy of the upgrades, she had heard all about the exploits of the former agent. If he ever finds out that _I _am the one who terminated the pregnancy of the woman who carried his child, the treatment I get at the hands of the upgrades will be tame in comparison to what he will do to me.

In human terms, she is in already in her second trimester, and because Sarah is a program, it is already too late to do it with authorization and I can't give her a name or two from my still-practising colleagues that I have a rapport with. "Because you are already in your second trimester, there are increased risks." That's an understatement, the ex-doctor thought to herself. I have never done this on a female program who was this far along—why the hell didn't she come to me earlier, when she first found out she was pregnant instead of now, when with every passing moment, the task she wishes me to perform increases the risk to her life several times over?

But, she reflected, she is no different from any of the other frightened young women—human or not—that I have served in the past. Their pregnancies do not become real to them until they feel the first fluttering movements within themselves that announce the presence of the life they are carrying. And it is only _then_ that they realize that they will become mothers in due course; thus resulting in the frantic search for any doctor who is willing to remove the life that is growing inside of them and enable them to resume their lives.

"I don't care about the risks—just take this _thing_ out of me!" Sarah snapped, jabbing her fingers hard into her stomach. "I don't care what you have to do to get it out—use the end of a goddamn coat hanger if you have to! I will pay you whatever you ask and I won't open my mouth afterwards. No matter what happens, I won't sue you if anything goes wrong. Satisfied?"

The woman nodded.

"Can we do it today? Now?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Not today, but tomorrow I can." The gleam of hope that shone from Sarah's eyes caught her by surprise. She must really hate the father if she is willing to risk her life like this, the former physician thought. She has felt the child inside of her move; even _I_ was able to do that during my examination. By the way she is carrying on, one would think that this poor girl is carrying the spawn of Satan himself. But considering who the father of her child is, she is not that far off the mark.

"All right," Sarah said grudgingly. "Where should we do this--do you have an office somewhere?"

"No, but I know this little out of the way motel that will serve my needs—it's on the outskirts of town and the owner doesn't ask any questions. However, there is the question of my fee…"

Sarah's jaw nearly dropped when she heard the amount. Where the hell can I get even half that sum, she wondered, desperately thinking of someone, anyone, who had that much money at their disposal. Her face brightened when she realized that there was one person in the Matrix to whom money meant little, but that did not mean he did not reach for any money he could get his greedy hands on, always seeking more but never satisfied with the wealth he had already amassed.

"Money is no problem. When we meet tomorrow, you shall have it all in cash, I promise. But one more thing, should anything go wrong, I am going to ask that you do not make any intention to save this baby whatsoever. If my life has to be sacrificed in order to do this, then so be it. For if I do manage to survive," Sarah said with a steely glare, "then I will let the local police _and_ the upgrades know where they can find you and let _them_ decide what is to become of you. Either way, you will face deletion or imprisonment."

When the former doctor still hesitated, Sarah burst forth angrily, "if this child does manage to live, I will tell Smith exactly where to find you and you can deal with him."

The woman swallowed, and Sarah watched as all the blood in her face drained, leaving it a sickly white colour, as she thought of what judgement she could expect at the former agent's hands. She nodded her acceptance of Sarah's terms and hastened away.

lllll

It seems like a long time since I was here last, Sarah thought to herself, looking around at the opulent office of the Merovingian. He may be nothing more than a pompous French pouf, but he certainly knows how to decorate a room with taste and elegance.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Sarah," the Merovingian said as he entered, indicating that she should have a seat. Sarah did so and glanced at Persephone who entered shortly after the Frenchman did and took her place at his side.

"I don't mind, but I don't have a lot of time."

"I understand you need a loan?"

"Yes I do. It's for…"

He smiled and waved her to silence. "I know why you are here—anyone who has eyes can see that you are carrying a child. And not just anyone's child either; someone with whom you undoubtedly had intimate relations with and now that you find out it is his child, you seek to get rid of it."

"No shit, Sherlock," Sarah snapped. "I need to know now if you will give it to me or not."

"And why should I give you such an exorbitant sum, just like that?" he said, snapping his fingers.

Sarah leaned forward angrily. "Because Smith fu--screwed you just like he did me, that's why! He promised to give you the eyes of the Oracle when you told him where to find me, but he didn't follow through on his end of the deal, did he? No. He took what he wanted from you and that was the end of it. Well, how about this: what better way can you demonstrate to him the price he has to pay for breaking his word than by giving me the means to kill his unborn child?"

The Merovingian sat back in his seat and steepled his fingers as he pondered Sarah's argument.

"She has a very good point, my love," Persephone said, glancing at her husband. "He did renege on his bargain with you, after all."

"Yes, that he did," the Frenchman said thoughtfully. "All right. I will give you the money and we will be even."

Sarah sighed in relief. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"One more thing, Sarah," Persephone said, "you and I have had our differences in the past, but I feel I must ask if you have found someone reliable to do this procedure? I mean no disrespect, but you are quite far along and it could be dangerous."

I hope and pray you are not going to see whom I think you are, Persephone thought fervently. For every female program of childbearing age in the Matrix knows her name by now—that once-brilliant physician who lost her reputation and career in order to feed her addictions to one kind of painkiller or another. How many women have lost their lives because of her I cannot begin to count.

"Yes, a friend of mine is helping me," Sarah said, "but I don't know if reliable is the word I'd use, but she was the only one I could find. However, she is my only hope to rid myself of this..." she said, pointing to her swollen stomach. "I don't care what I have to do, but I'm not going to carry this _thing_ one day longer than I have to."

The Frenchman glanced at his wife and she gave him the slightest of nods. With that unspoken acknowledgment of her approval, he reached into a drawer, pulled out the necessary amount and gave it to Sarah. Giving him a heartfelt smile of gratitude, Sarah took the money and left.

Once the door closed behind her, Sarah heaved a huge sigh of relief. A great load had been lifted from her shoulders in more ways than one--for not only would she soon be rid of the horrible incubus that was now growing inside of her, but during her search in her handbag for the gum, Sarah had discovered a long-forgotten bottle of powerful painkillers that had been hidden in the innermost and seldom used pocket.

Now that she knew the child was Smith's, Sarah had no second thoughts about taking several of these drugs to ease her throbbing head. Considering what is going to happen to you tomorrow, she thought, grimacing slightly as she swallowed the pills dry, the effects of these pills on you now do not concern me in the least. I feel nothing towards you: no maternal instincts, no love and especially no remorse about what I plan to do with you. By this time tomorrow, I will be free. Sarah closed her eyes and welcomed the numbing sensation that spread through her system as the narcotic properties of the pills began to take effect.

lllll

Both husband and wife were silent until the door had closed behind their visitor.

"For her sake, I only hope it's not too late for the procedure to be done safely," the Merovingian said, looking sideways at his wife waiting to see what thoughts she had on the subject.

"It is already too late," Persephone said sadly. "She waited too long before coming to us. There is nothing good that can come out of this, you can be sure of that."

"Will she die?" her husband asked quietly.

"No, but she will wish she had once Smith finds out what she tried to do. Sarah will unfortunately discover that inciting his wrath is not a wise thing to do."

"Will he hurt her in retaliation?"

"Physically no, but there are other ways to make someone feel pain and anguish other than by physical means and you can be sure that Smith will never forgive her."

"If he won't harm her using force, what will he do then?" the Merovingian asked, perplexed.

"He will enslave her," Persephone said. "Just like he did with Bronwyn. For a price, he will allow her to have contact with Seraph, but on his own terms and under his own set of conditions; and the only way she will ever be free again is if The One accomplishes a miracle and defeats him. Only then will she be free. Unfortunately, that will probably never be the case."

"Why not?"

"Because with each program Smith assimilates, his power and strength grows. Whatever was in their programming will now become his—information, abilities, you name it—he will use to his own advantage to defeat Neo. Haven't you sensed his growing powers?"

"I have," her husband agreed dismally, "it's like a storm cloud on the horizon, becoming darker and more ominous with each passing minute."

"He knows he will be a father again soon and he's making preparations."

"For what?"

"It is called 'nesting.' He is taking over the Matrix so he can have this world exactly as he thinks it should be when his child arrives. And because the mother is a program, like us, that will be much, much sooner than the one he would have had with Bronwyn."

"That is something I was never able to understand—the offspring of programs come in less than four weeks, but with Ms. Delaney, he had to wait the entire nine months. Why is that?"

"That's because the mother was a human and he had to work around the confines of a normal human gestation period. But, despite the fact that the mother was human, his child would not have been. She would have been rejected by both us and the humans the moment she was born."

"Was there something wrong with her?"

Persephone nodded. "Anything from the seed of Smith would be as evil and twisted as he is, no matter who the mother and I hope that Sarah can rid herself of her burden before it warns Smith what she is doing to it."

At the Merovingian's startled look, she continued with a wan smile. "It tells him by some means I do not understand, what she is feeling but not, fortunately, what she is thinking. Smith and his unborn child have a powerful connection. If the doctor Sarah has procured for herself anesthetises her, the child will be incapacitated as well and unable to send Smith a warning of any kind. That is Sarah's only hope to get rid of this child and with any luck, emerge from _that_ woman's blunderings and be able to live a long and happy life with the man she loves."


	13. Enslaved

**Enslaved**

**Author's Note: **I would not have been able to even post this chapter if it wasn't for the best beta-reader in the world, Cecilia, who saved my butt by saving this on her disk before mine went ka-blooey. THANK YOU!

**Warning: **This chapter deal with the highly controversial subject of termination of a pregnancy, also known as abortion. If this subject matter is too personal or offends your beliefs in any way, then do not read this chapter.

**Summary: **Smith arrives in time to save Sarah and their child but exacts a terrible penalty on Sarah for her botched abortion attempt. (Slight slash implied.) Please R and R, even if you didn't like this chapter—I would like to hear what you thought of it!

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"All right, here we go," the woman said confidently, preparing to begin the procedure that would remove the unwanted fetus from Sarah's womb.

Sarah was drowsy from the sedative she had been given and was feeling no pain or discomfort at all. Her physician was aware that thus far, everything was progressing normally as could be expected under the circumstances. Probing deeper into Sarah's womb, the physician delicately began to insert the long medical instrument that was needed in this first stage of the abortion process…

lllll

"Damn it!"

The rush of blood that came from Sarah's vagina immediately afterward told her that she had penetrated the uterine wall too far—again--and without immediate medical treatment, her patient would die. Even in a fully equipped operating room, there might have been a chance to save Sarah; but they both were in this filthy no-tell motel, miles away from anywhere and subsequently, there was nothing she could do to save her patient. In any case, Sarah had demanded that in the event that something was to go wrong, the doctor was to make no efforts whatsoever to save her. Moreover, if she reneged on their agreement, Sarah would inform the upgrades where the now-exiled doctor could be located.

"Oh no…." The physician's voice was barely above a whisper, but Sarah heard it nonetheless.

"It doesn't matter anymore. We're both going to die now, aren't we?" Sarah asked, her voice slurred from the sedative that she had been given.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor responded gravely. She sounds almost pleased with this outcome, the woman thought, she is going to die and she doesn't give a damn. She has just tossed her life away in order to ensure that she succeeds in killing Smith's baby. The doctor shook her head in sadness and resignation.

"I know," Sarah replied quietly, "but I knew the risks coming into this. Just give me a shot of the same stuff you gave me for the pain when we started and we'll be even. After that, you'd better get out of here."

Sarah could feel no pain whatsoever when the needle was injected, only a languor that told her her time was ending. I'm sorry, Seraph, that it had to end this way between us, she thought drowsily, feeling the mattress beneath her becoming thoroughly soaked with her blood.

I had no choice but to take this way out. I've heard stories from the Merovingian when he was in his cups about how Smith relentlessly pursued Bronwyn and Jones—hounding her whenever he could, dogging their every step, watching their every move. As I heard those stories, I wondered why she just didn't run off again, but now I see that there was nowhere that she could go that he wouldn't find her. She was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on her, Sarah thought, all the hatred towards Bronwyn had long since evaporated.

I'm so sorry, little one, she thought, her hand going for a moment to her belly to feel if there was still life inside of her, but Sarah could feel no movement. It was for the best that I did this--I hope you understand that. I would rather see you dead than being raised by your father to become God knows what, in ignorance of everything that is good and right in this world.

The temptation to close her eyes and let the approaching darkness take her into its cold and final embrace was overwhelming and Sarah fought to stay awake.

_Let yourself go_, a voice inside her head instructed. _Why are you fighting the inevitable?_

"Because the longer I stay awake," she murmured, "the more blood I lose. And the more blood I lose, the quicker I die. Besides, there will plenty of time to sleep once I'm dead, isn't that how the old saying goes?" She laughed at her own joke and was satisfied with the accompanying spurt of blood from her vagina that reassured her, in its own morbid way, that her logic was not flawed.

_What will you miss most in this world?_

"Seraph. I miss him already," she answered, her throat tightening with grief. "I will miss him holding me when I get scared at night. I will miss his warm smile and the way his eyes light up when he sees me."

_But what if he is already on his way here? _

"He won't find me in time, because I told no one where I was going. I even took the bus so no one would recognize or pay any attention to me."

_Have you forgotten he can feel what you can?_

"I haven't forgotten but there is no way he can get here in time to save me…I only wish I didn't have to die alone."

The door was thrown open and the light from the fading afternoon sun streamed into the doorway, blinding Sarah. She was too weak to shield her eyes with her hand, but she knew who it was.

"You're here," she whispered, tears of relief trickling down her pale cheeks.

"I'm here," Seraph said, going to his knees by her bedside and holding her hand.

"I don't know how you did it, but I'm glad you found me," Sarah said. "Now I don't have to die alone."

"What have you done to yourself?" Seraph asked his voice distraught and Sarah heard the angry grief behind his words.

"If you are going to lecture me, then get out," she warned then grinned feebly. If he does lecture me, there is nothing I can do to stop him, is there? I am hardly in any condition to kick him out.

"I won't lecture."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear, or I won't believe you," Sarah ordered, her voice low and faint. She was too weak to raise her hand to complete the motion, so Seraph linked their smallest fingers together. For her sake, he tried his best to smile at the childish gesture that meant a pinky swear must not, under any circumstances, be broken for any reason.

"I feel so cold. Will you hold me in your arms and rock me to sleep like you used to? Remember when we were kids and you knew I was afraid of storms?"

"I remember," he said with a faint smile. Seraph hastened to comply with her request before she died; it's the least I can do, he thought, forcefully willing his face not to register shock when he lifted the blanket and saw how much blood she had lost. For a moment, he thought of calling the Oracle, but disregarded the thought, realizing that she could never get there in time to save her. Sarah was going to die at any moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He gathered her in his arms and held her as tightly as he dared.

"Don't leave me, Sarah. Don't go…" he moaned softly, rocking her body back and forth before stopping suddenly. I will only make her bleed more, he realized, but she had finally slipped into unconsciousness and was out of the reach of anything or anyone. I will honour her last wish.

lllll

Smith felt a ripping sensation in his midriff and doubled over, clutching the area over his stomach. A silent scream of pain and terror echoed through his head and he staggered, reeling from its intensity. He grabbed the sleeve of the clone nearest to him to keep himself from falling to the ground. She is killing it, Sarah is trying to kill our baby, Smith thought angrily, as he listened and interpreted the communication he had just received from his unborn child

"Drive," he ordered through his teeth, "get me to the car and drive where I tell you."

Without a word, the copy hoisted its creator over his shoulders and nearly threw him in the back seat of the Audi in order to comply with Smith's wishes.

I will not let her get away with this. I can still stop her before it is too late. The connection to my child will lead me to where they are. I can feel it crying out to me, begging me to save it and I will--provided I get there in time. "Can't this damn car move any faster?" he snarled. He felt his strength leaving him and a lassitude spread over his body. Smith knew he had to find Sarah and quickly, for the drugs that had been injected into her system were having an effect on his child, making it groggy; scrambling its thoughts to such an extent so that all Smith was receiving now was little more than gibberish.

"Hurry," he said, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. He blinked owlishly to get his vision into focus but it did no good. I have to be strong. I must fight this overwhelming desire to close my eyes and let myself fall asleep; for if I do, I will lose them both. Smith knew that he must keep himself conscious until he could ascertain where Sarah was located.

"Keep me awake," Smith muttered to the clone that was in the backseat with him. "I don't care what you have to do_, do not_ let me fall asleep. Turn here," he instructed the driver.

lllll

"Get out, Smith!" Seraph yelled when he saw his nemesis framed in the doorway. Smith had braced both of his hands on either side of the doorframe for it was the only way he could stay on his feet and reeled drunkenly into Sarah's motel room.

"Can't you let her die in peace?" Seraph said, "None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you. For the second time in your miserable life, you impregnated a woman by raping her. Haven't you done enough to Sarah by driving her to this?" Seraph angrily pointed to where Sarah lay on the bed, furiously throwing aside the blanket that covered the lower part of her body so Smith could see for himself what his actions had driven Sarah to do.

"Shut up, Seraph," Smith snarled. "I came because I can save them." He lurched over to the bed and looked down at Sarah, seeing the full extent of her blood loss on the mattress. I have killed hundreds, perhaps thousands of people in my time, but I never knew their pathetic human forms could hold so much blood.

"No one can save her," Seraph said, interrupting Smith's thoughts. "It's too late."

"Is she dead?" Smith countered.

"Not yet, but…" Seraph's grief nearly strangled him as he fought to get the words out.

"Then it's not too late for me to do something, is it?" Smith answered snidely.

With horror, Seraph saw Smith shove his hand into Sarah's arm and bright green Matrix coding flowed from Smith into her. Smith could already feel it doing its work; he himself was growing stronger and more lucid, while his child and its mother were regaining their strength as well. Just before I arrived here, I made sure that several large-scale file containment areas were empty so you could both reside there. They are in the most secure area I have at my disposal; no one, not even the Oracle or the Architect himself,

can access them but me.

"What the hell are you doing!" Seraph yelled, trying to yank Smith's arm out before whatever it was that he was doing was complete. Smith raised his free arm and shoved Seraph to the floor and Seraph watched in horrified fascination as the form of Sarah melted in a rush of green coding, dissolving and forming itself into a perfect duplicate of Smith.

lllll

Hardly daring to hope, Seraph tremulously removed the dark glasses that covered the clone's eyes, desperately seeking a trace of expression in its eyes, letting him know that Sarah was within, but only cold azure eyes stared back at him.

"She's not in there, Smith! You lied! All you did was create another copy of yourself!" Seraph raged.

"Yes, I did, but it is only temporary. It was necessary as my files will repair hers."

"What about the baby?"

"He or she will be restored as Sarah will. Don't worry, Seraph," Smith said, for once his voice was uncharacteristically gentle and devoid of sarcasm. "I am not going to hurt either of them."

"How can I get her back?"

"By killing the clone in whose body she now resides or if I die."

"I won't believe any of this until I get to talk to her myself," Seraph said, jutting his chin defiantly at Smith.

"As you wish. Let her out," he instructed his copy, "but not for long—only let Seraph know that I have done what I promised."

"Seraph?" a quiet, gentle voice asked and a hand tugged tentatively at his sleeve. Seraph looked down and saw Smith's large, well-manicured hand cover his own. His first instinct was to jerk it away from that loathsome touch, but her next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Don't pull away, Seraph, it's _me_."

"Oh god," he moaned, "how are you?" His heart turned to ice when he saw the copy shrug its shoulders in exactly the same manner as Sarah herself would have done.

"I'm okay now. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Don't be," he said, forgetting himself and caressed the strong jawline of the face of his most hated enemy, before he remembered where he was and more importantly, with whom. Seraph stood up clumsily and suddenly, for the sudden tears in his eyes blurred his vision.

The copy also stood up and held Seraph's shoulders in his hands before lowering its much taller form for an embrace. Unable to help himself, Seraph returned the gesture, straining to his heart the soul of the woman he loved, if not the body. He flinched slightly when he felt its arms go around his waist exactly as Sarah would have done.

"I'm so much taller than you now," Sarah said with a hint of humour in her tone.

Seraph was not able to answer her because his heart was full of such intensity of inexpressible emotion. He was overjoyed to have her back again, but sickened at the fact that the essence of what she was was trapped inside the body of their mutual enemy. The awkwardness of being held in such a loving embrace by his worst adversary was a paradox that even the Merovingian would have found amusing. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he knew that whatever they did say to one another will be recorded and replayed for Smith's own sick amusement and he told her so.

"I know," Sarah said sadly.

"This has gone on long enough," Smith ordered, striding forward to break them apart.

"No! Wait!" Sarah implored. "Please, Smith! Just one minute longer—I'll do anything you want, just let me have a little longer with Seraph, please?"

The fact that this proud, arrogant woman was now begging for clemency from him pleased Smith to no end. "Your display of affection is absolutely nauseating," he growled. "You can have your minute, Sarah, but there is a price tag."

"Fine! Name it!"

"What is it that you want to do?" Smith asked curiously.

"I only want to kiss him goodbye," Sarah said simply.

"All right, but don't take all day."

Seraph gasped in startled surprise when he felt the strong hands of the man in front of him touch his face. The hands that could punch through concrete gently tilted Seraph's head upwards and the copy lowered its mouth to his own. Every instinct in Seraph's body wanted more of this excruciating torment, but at the same time, his mind wanted to turn and flee, to leave that room as soon as he could.

When their mouths met, there was no doubt that even though the soft lips and wide mouth belonged to Smith, the technique was Sarah's. Without a moment's hesitation, Seraph returned the kiss. As long as I keep my eyes closed, I can believe that it is Sarah here with me, Seraph thought to himself.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Why Seraph, I didn't know you cared," a familiar and hated voice sneered from the lips he had just kissed. "I'm flattered, but I just am not interested in beginning a homosexual relationship with you. Sorry," the clone jeered, exchanging a glance with its creator as they chuckled together in mutual merriment at Seraph's expense..

Humiliated, Seraph shoved the clone that held the essence of Sarah inside of it away from him with both hands and fled the room. Sarah was lost to him, probably forever. I have to find the Oracle, she will tell me what to do and where to go from here, he thought.

"And as for you," Smith said, his arms encircling the lean waist of his clone and drawing it closer.

"What do you want, Smith?" Sarah said warily.

Smith paused dramatically as he pretended to ponder the question. "The same thing that Seraph wanted—a kiss," he said. "Kiss me as if I was Seraph and I want you to mean it because if you do not, I will make sure that you never see or speak to him again," he growled, pulling the body of his clone even closer. Smith touched the tie clasp and slid his hand down the length of the clone's tie in a long caress.

"Have you ever had anal sex before?" Smith asked smoothly and leered at Sarah when he saw her shake his clone's head in a negative response to his query.

"This will be a learning experience for both of us I think," he replied. At the look she gave him, he explained himself further. "I have never sodomized a man before."

"Of course not," Sarah said harshly. "You only do that to women, don't you? I can't see you taking on someone your own size; that's why you like to rape only women. You like to torture someone smaller and weaker than yourself, who don't have a chance in hell of defending themselves against you." She pulled herself out of his embrace, trying to keep at least an arm's length distance between them.

"Correct," Smith agreed equably, his calm and tranquil response irritating Sarah further. Smith found Sarah's attitude and demeanour very pleasing and he unconsciously smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" she demanded.

"At you. I have to admit that I find it very refreshing to have such a spirited dialogue with myself; all of my other selves are always so eager to please me." Smith shrugged before continuing. "They are all what you might call _yes _men. All day long, all I ever hear from them is 'yes Sir,' or 'no Sir,' when sometimes what I truly want is someone who isn't afraid to have a backbone and stand up to me once in a while. Like you are doing right now," Smith said, coming closer to Sarah. With each step he advanced toward her, she took an equal step away from him until her back was against the wall.

"Nowhere left to run, Sarah," Smith said softly as he pressed his body against that of his clone. "Now what are you going to do?"

Sarah tried to think of something that would preclude Smith from his intentions of cornering her, but her mind remained completely blank. Smith forced the primly closed lips of the clone apart with his tongue and took his time leisurely exploring every millimetre of the soft lips beneath his own. He could feel Sarah kissing him back and he deepened the kiss between them, his hands possessing and roaming the body that was identical to his. He cupped his copy's buttocks and ground his own hips forward so that she could feel his erection.

"Love me the way I need, no, the way I _deserve_," he moaned in her ear. He leaned towards her again but this time Sarah was prepared. The moment she felt his lips touch hers, she bit down hard.

"You bitch," he hissed angrily as he touched the tip of his tongue to his lip and scowled, tasting his own blood.

"Be careful what you wish for," Sarah snarled and drew back her fist and punched Smith in the jaw. "Have you forgotten? I'm now as strong as you—hell, I _am_ you and I can fight you the way I never could before."

Smith recovered quickly, for even though Sarah's punch had the strength of an agent behind it, she did not have the skill or the experience to keep him away from her for very long.

"You have spirit, I'll hand you that," Smith said, coming towards her again, "but, my dear, you lack experience," he said, easily sidestepping around her and pinning her arm behind her back. "Fight all you want, Sarah, it amuses me. And it arouses me as well." He tightened his grip a fraction harder so that she gasped in pain. "I've changed my mind—I no longer just want a kiss from you, I want to fuck you. You once told me to go fuck myself, if I remember correctly, and I've decided to do just that."

Sarah tensed in fear and swallowed nervously. He wants to have sex with me while I am trapped in the body of a man and that meant either oral or anal penetration. She had never had anal sex before, and considering Smith's penchant for violence towards his partner during sex, it was safe to assume it would be neither pleasurable nor consensual for her in any way. Perhaps if he thinks of using lubrication of some sort, it might be easier to bear, but since there isn't any here, this is going to be excruciating. However, I have the stamina of an agent now. Therefore, with any luck, I will be able to get through this since everyone in the Matrix knows that agents were designed to withstand pain on a level that would incapacitate anyone else.

"How many women have you sodomized, Smith? How many times did you do this to Bronwyn?"

"For your information, Sarah, I never assaulted her like I am going to do to you. Even at my worst, or when I was the most angry at her, I never dreamt of hurting her in that way."

"You and your damn precious Bronwyn!" Sarah yelled, "It seems that poor, dead Bronwyn could do no wrong in your eyes, huh?"

"At least _she_ had courage. She discovered she was pregnant but decided to keep my baby, even though she knew very well what it meant. Jones must have told her at some point that I would not give up until I found her. I have to hand it to her; she had more guts and resolve than almost any human I have ever met. _She_ chose to give life to our child. Unlike _you_, who tried to kill it!"

"Bronwyn had courage all right; courage enough to realize that she couldn't live without her pills and booze so that's why she jumped to her death. Yeah, a real mark of bravery that is," Sarah scoffed in derision. "Listen to you—she had you pussy whipped and wrapped around her little finger, didn't she? Everyone knows about what you did when she died."

"Since you claim to know so much, what _did_ I do after she died?"

"You sat on the ground in the rain, with her brains and blood all over you, holding her dead body in your lap saying things like: 'why didn't you give me a chance?' or some stupid sappy thing like that. Boo-hoo!" Sarah mocked in a singsong tone. "The Merovingian told me and a lot others all about it."

"Did he tell you what I did afterward?"

"Yes he did, as a matter of fact."

"Well?"

"You did the only unselfish thing you've probably ever done in your existence—you took her back to Rockland County in New York and buried her next to her father. However, the Merovingian did not see your gesture as a sign of the depth of your feelings towards her. He could not stop commenting on the fact that a mere human woman toppled the great and powerful Agent Smith and made him weak. So weak that even after she died by her own hand, you still mourn and grieve for her. "

Smith grabbed her by the black lapels of her jacket and slammed her against the wall.

"Careful, Smith," Sarah taunted, "you might hurt your precious baby. Wouldn't want that, now would you?"

To her consternation, Smith only smiled. "That's where you are wrong, Sarah. Where I installed it in my CPU, it is safe and protected from anything or anyone who might wish to do it harm. Even you, its own mother," Smith jeered, a triumphant sneer twisting his mouth. "So I can slap you around all I want in repayment for your little stunt this afternoon."

To prove his statement, he shoved Sarah away from him with enough force so that she landed on her back on the other side of the room. Almost faster than her eyes could follow, Smith had crossed the room and stood in front of her, even before she managed to get to her feet. Before she could take a step, however, Sarah tripped, falling to her knees.

She bridled in anger as she heard Smith chuckle. God, I am such an idiot Sarah cursed herself; I have to learn how to manipulate these humungous feet I am now saddled with. However, she had learned from his own admission that he liked her to exhibit dissention. And if he is laughing, then perhaps I can distract him from carrying out his intentions of fucking me.

"How you ever figured out how not to trip over your own feet is beyond me. What size are these damn hooves that you schlep around in anyway, size 15 or something?"

"Good guess," Smith said, leering down at her before yanking her to her feet. Sarah submitted to his touch with her mind and body numbed into insensibility. She was aware of everything he did: removing her jacket first, followed by the loosening and eventual removal of the white shirt, black tie and its silver clasp. She glanced down at her new form's torso and scowled. Now I have no breasts at all and a hairy chest to boot. Yuck. From a woman's point of view, it might be considered attractive, but from my vantage point it doesn't do anything for me.

She stared straight ahead and focused her gaze on the lop-sided armchair in the corner when she felt Smith's hands tug at the black belt of the clone whose body she was now imprisoned inside. The only indication she had of now being nude in front of the still-clothed Smith was when she felt goose bumps appear on her skin when the air touched it.

She swallowed and tried to repress a shudder when Smith's hands began touching the body of his clone. Up until now, he had never had the urge or inclination to touch any of his other selves in this manner and he took his time in minutely using his fingertips to examine and explore Sarah's masculine form to his heart's content.

He missed nothing: from the sensation of running his fingers through dark auburn hair identical to his own. He stroked Sarah's face and emitted an almost inaudible sound as he twined his fingers around some strands of the thick, coarse mat of hair that now covered her chest. More. I must have more, he thought to himself. I need to feel her—or should I say _my_—skin against my own.

"Do the same to me," he growled. "Take my clothes off." When Sarah hesitated, Smith became angry. "If you don't do what I ask, then I will make damn sure that you never see or speak to Seraph again. Take your time and do it right; you are not going anywhere for quite a while yet."

What seemed like an eternity later, she was now lying facedown on the bed and a further sinking of the mattress told her that that she was no longer alone in bed. She felt Smith position himself for entry into her rectum as he now lay completely on top of her. With a horrible sinking feeling in her gut, she felt the head of his erect penis touch her anal opening hesitantly. Sarah took a deep breath and she braced herself as best she could for what she knew was going to happen next…


	14. Regrets, Remembrances and a Resolution

**Regrets, Remembrances and a Resolution**

**Disclaimer**:A friend of mine said it best: I do not own the Matrix, the Matrix owns me.

**Summary**: Having been given unexpected but accidental access to Jones' memories, Sarah seeks to use the information for her own advantage.

The clone looked over at its creator and hesitated to say anything while Smith appeared to be deep in thought--not to mention drinking heavier than usual. However, the persistence of the program known as Sarah inside of him was adamant and difficult to ignore. The copy was getting tired of her repeated requests to be allowed to have communication with Smith.

To Sarah's chagrin, she had discovered that even though she was free from harm and further violation while inside the form of Smith's copy, it was still a cage. And like any animal held against its will in a prison, she strained against the bars, desperate to be free.

If I broach this with him, the clone thought to itself, then perhaps she will be satisfied and leave me at peace. It did not like the idea of Sarah using and reading his files and whenever she was not allowed to have control of the form of the clone, she was usually rummaging and searching through all the records and accounts she could access. Sarah's poking, prying and being downright nosy was getting tiresome.

The copy had assumed that Sarah was merely inquisitive and that could be called correct; however, the real reason for her relentless pursuit of information was that she was looking for a weakness. A weakness of Smith's could only be discovered from within the clone itself and his data banks were the best place to begin looking.

She, too, now had access to all of Smith's memories as well as those of every program he had assimilated. All but one. For Smith would allow no one but himself to view or have access to the files he had acquired from Jones.

"She wishes to speak to you," the clone said tentatively, hesitating to disturb Smith from his dark contemplations. "Will you permit it?"

Smith shrugged. At that response, the clone rightfully interpreted that as a sign of its creator's consent.

"What did you want to speak to me about, Sarah?" Smith asked, glancing over at her as he took another generous swallow of brandy.

"I was just wondering something about Bronwyn and the time she was carrying your child." A muscle twitched in Smith's jaw and Sarah knew that if she wished to be allowed out of her cage from time to time, it would be wise to tread carefully around the man who had such absolute control over her--especially now that Smith was getting increasingly more intoxicated as the night wore on. This was definitely not the time to piss him off, she thought.

Even though he did not answer her question directly, Sarah was able to deduce from the expression on his face that there were times when being pregnant with Smith's child made Bronwyn unhappy.

"What would you like to know?" he asked guardedly.

"When I was carrying Danny's child, I know that being pregnant wasn't always a wonderful thing. I remember complaining to Danny that my feet hurt so much I could hardly shoes anymore. I felt fat and ugly. Sometimes I wished I had never become pregnant in the first place. Did Bronwyn ever feel that way?"

Yes, she did, Smith thought. From what I have been able to find out from Jones' memories, there was at least one time where he was actually afraid of what she might do to herself, as well as to my unborn child…

_When Jones entered the apartment, the first thing he heard was muffled sobbing. His first thought was that Bronwyn was being harmed in some way and he drew his weapon before proceeding any further. If Smith is in there doing anything to her, he thought, I will kill him. He knows as well as I do that the last thing Bronwyn needs right now is more stress._

_Walking further into the apartment, Jones spotted a thin sliver of light from underneath the door that had been designated as the baby's nursery. He pushed open the door just enough to see inside but hesitated to enter. _

_For this entire evening she has been upset about something, he thought, for throughout the dinner at Mickey's house she appeared to be acting normally. However, Jones had noticed that whenever she expressed amusement at some of Mickey's jokes, she laughed but her eyes did not sparkle as they usually did whenever she was amused. Jones had been around Bronwyn enough in the last few months to notice the fact that when she laughed, her eyes twinkled as well._

_I shouldn't break in on her now, Jones thought, because if she wanted me to know what was bothering her, she would have told me. Peering into the room, he saw Bronwyn sitting on the floor of the nursery rocking back and forth and weeping, the white teddy bear with a pink ribbon around its neck she had bought earlier in the day, clasped in her arms._

_Jones shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering what to do. The sounds of Bronwyn's despair wrenched at his heart. I can't just stand here with my finger up my ass and not try to do something, he fumed angrily at himself. I have to see what is causing her so much pain. Taking a deep breath of the simulated air of the Matrix, Jones pushed the door to the nursery open and walked over to where Bronwyn was and sat on the floor next to her._

"_What's wrong, Bronwyn? Why are you crying?" he asked and felt her whole body tremble beneath his hands. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before holding her close to him._

"_I know this will sound stupid, but I just realized something," she said._

"_What is it?"_

"_I'm going to have a baby, Jones."_

"_Yes, I know, but…"_

"_No, what I meant is that I am going to have Smith's baby," Bronwyn said. "Oh God, I wish it was yours!"_

_So do I, he thought. However, we must live with what we have and not go around wishing for things that cannot be changed._

"_But I don't want it anymore…I want to get rid of it!" she wailed._

"_You can't. It's too late for that."_

"_NO IT ISN'T!" Bronwyn said desperately. "It's not too late…. I'm not the naïve fool I was before; I've learned there are things a woman can do even at my late date."_

"_Who have you been talking to? Who told you this?" Jones demanded, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "You haven't done anything to yourself, have you?" _

_Damn, Jones thought. I knew something was wrong when I saw Bronwyn and Mickey's wife talking quietly with their heads together after dinner. I thought that she was giving Bronwyn advice about babies since she is pregnant herself, but in fact, she was telling Bronwyn how to terminate this pregnancy. Both of them were unaware that I could follow most of what was being said between them. I remember hearing the phrases 'starve' and 'flight of stairs' but I didn't think much of it at the time. Now, however, I see that that woman was telling Bronwyn she could possibly bring about a miscarriage if she deliberately caused herself to fall like that or by not eating._

"_You're not planning to hurt yourself in any way are you? I know you haven't been starving yourself or this child for I've seen you eat, but perhaps you are waiting until my back is turned before throwing yourself down a flight of stairs so you can be rid of this baby?"_

"_No! Wait—how the hell did you know about that?" Bronwyn asked, her eyes wide open in surprise and fear at Jones' degree of astuteness._

"_It doesn't matter," he said tersely. "I just need to know if I can trust you not to hurt yourself when I'm not able to be with you. Which bring me to ask again: what is upsetting you right now?" Jones took her chin in his hand. "Please tell me what is wrong, Bronwyn. I'm worried about you."_

"_I hate this baby," Bronwyn said harshly, jabbing the heel of her hand hard against her swelling abdomen. "I wish I had never become pregnant in the first place. Mickey told me to get rid of it months ago. I should have listened to him."_

"_Don't do that, you'll hurt the baby," Jones said, attempting to take the hand that was trying to hurt her unborn child and place it in his own, but Bronwyn jerked her hand away._

"_I don't care anymore!" she shouted. "I – hate - this - baby!" she said, vehemently pushing and nudging the swell of her body._

"_You don't mean that." _

"_Oh yes I do," she said forcefully, looking at Jones directly in the face. The look he saw in her eyes was frightening in its intensity. She means every word, he realized. Something has happened to her in the last few hours to completely change her outlook regarding this pregnancy. I must find out what it is and get her to change her mind somehow before she does something she will regret later._

"_What happened to change your mind all of a sudden?" Jones asked. He was careful to modulate his voice so it appeared calm, but deep inside, he was anything but._

"_It just occurred to me that once this baby is born, Smith will never leave us alone. I've never told you this, but I've seen him following me from time to time, just out of the corner of my eye and once I turned around and stared right at him." She dropped her gaze to her lap. "And then there are the phone calls…"_

"_Phone calls? He's been calling you? _Here?_"_

"_They're just hang-ups, that's all. The phone rings, I pick it up and there is no one there. He never says anything, but I can hear him breathing. I know it's Smith—who else could it be? He only calls when you're gone but never when you are here with me."_

"_When has he done this? And why haven't you told me this before?" _

"_I didn't want to worry you."_

_Jones seethed, but did not let Bronwyn see the fury that was building up inside of him. Smith is making her afraid to go outside by following her, and now he is making her afraid to be inside by calling her. What does he have planned next? "When you saw him, did he bother you in any way or say anything?"_

"_No. He just watches me. Somehow, the baby knows it too; she becomes much more agitated than usual whenever he is near me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that each of them knows the other is around. And that's my point—Smith is always going to be around, hiding in the shadows, watching and waiting for his chance to do God knows what. What I do know is that I cannot live like a prisoner anymore. I can't even go for a walk by myself when I feel like it in case he's lurking about. And it's all because of this thing that's inside of me!" Bronwyn wrenched her hand out of Jones' grasp and poised it above her belly, readying to hit herself again. Jones knew he had to say something, anything, that would cause her to reconsider harming her baby, not to mention the damage she might do to herself. But her next words chilled and hurt him._

"_What do you care anyway? You are only in this for the money." _

"_That is not true, Bronwyn."_

"_No? I know how much Mickey is paying you—five figures! That's at least ten thousand dollars! And the fact that you get to sleep with me from time to time is just icing on the cake, isn't it? I mean, you get to have sex with me AND you get paid for it!" Bronwyn hid her face in her hands and a paroxysm of angry sobbing shook her small frame. _

_Had Bronwyn looked at the expression on Jones' face as she said those angry, accusing words, she would have seen pain and hurt suffuse his face and it was a long moment until he could get himself under control again._

"_How can you say that to me after everything that has happened between us?" When Bronwyn did not answer, Jones stole a look at her, but her hair hid her face._

"_In the beginning, I _was_ only in it for the money, I admit that. But I changed, Bronwyn. Being near you and getting to know you changed me. I am a different man now; a better one, I hope, than what I was before. If I was only interested in the money Mickey was paying me, would I have been here, at your side, every time you woke up screaming from bad dreams? Who stayed with you until you felt safe enough to fall asleep again? Me. Who was there for you each and every time you needed comfort or a shoulder to cry on? Me. Who held you, dried your tears or just listened to what was on your mind? Me. _

_And I'm not just saying all of this to score points with you, Bronwyn," Jones said softly. "You know all of what I'm saying is true. If I truly did not care for you, it wouldn't have mattered to me if you were too afraid to fall asleep. I could have turned my back and left you alone in the darkness. I would still have been paid, wouldn't I?"_

_Jones paused before he continued, allowing the silence to drive his point home. "If you hadn't become pregnant or if you decided not to keep the baby, we never would have met," he said, stroking her face from temple to cheek and to the outline of her stubborn little chin. "Or doesn't the last four months together mean anything to you?" he whispered. "And what about all the times we've made love? Are you saying all of that meant nothing? That it was just sex, nothing more? If that is what you really think, should I just leave you alone from now on, except to accompany you when you want to go somewhere? If that is what you want, then tell me and I'll go."_

_His words raced like a lightning bolt through her brain. Everything she and Jones had shared flashed before her eyes: the long walks together through the park where they talked about everything and anything in an attempt to get to know each other better; or truth be told, she did all of the talking while he mostly listened—now and then managing to get a word in edgewise. However, the first real breakthrough in their relationship occurred the night she felt the baby move for the first time and he carried her home in his arms. After that, the wall that kept them distant and aloof from one another had been broken. _

_But the event that had truly brought them together as something more than client and protector had occurred the night of her nightmare. Because of that night, the proximity of their bodies as Jones enveloped Bronwyn in his arms and comforted her, made them aware that one of them was a man and the other was a woman; each with the desires and needs of their respective genders. Of a man, to provide comfort--and of a woman, to be comforted by someone stronger than she. _

_Both had been afraid to reveal these very new and very strong feelings and emotions to the other for fear of rejection and the heartbreaking possibility of not having them returned. After that night, Jones thought, what would I have done if I discovered that Bronwyn only wanted to retain the status quo of client and bodyguard? _

_As Jones watched, Bronwyn's hand lowered and fell in her lap as she considered his words. He is right, she thought. He wouldn't have been sent to look after me if I hadn't been pregnant. If it hadn't been for this baby, I would never have known what true love feels like. She glanced over at the strong profile of the man beside her and the coldness that had encased her heart for the last few hours melted. Her love for Jones far outweighed any of the negative emotions she felt whenever she thought of the father of her baby and even though she hated and despised Smith, Bronwyn realized that she loved Jones more. _

"_NO!" Bronwyn said, her voice breaking. "I don't know what I would've done without you," she continued. "Please forgive me! I didn't mean…I need you, Jones! Don't leave me!" She clutched at his sleeve._

"_I'm not going to leave you, Bronwyn," he said tenderly. "Now or ever. I know you've been through hell because of Smith and what he has done to you. You still have that nightmare about him, even though each and every time I am there to hold you when you wake up and comfort you until you feel safe enough to close your eyes. But it's not me from whom you should ask forgiveness." He placed his large hand on her swollen abdomen and looked into her eyes. "This little one needs to hear a few words from you for I think you frightened her. I think she needs to know that you still love her."_

"_I'm so sorry, my poor little girl," Bronwyn said remorsefully, tears sliding down her cheeks as she gently stroked the roundness of her body. "Mommy didn't mean to hurt you. I love you and I will never hurt you again, I promise." Caressing her belly and feeling the child within respond to her touch with a cautious nudge followed by a kick, Bronwyn smiled through her tears._

I remember that, Smith thought, as he lost himself in the memories of his now-deleted colleague. I remember getting several messages from our daughter that day because she was afraid that her mother was trying to harm her. I even drove to where Bronwyn and Jones were living and waited outside their apartment building all night in my car, so my daughter would know I was nearby if she needed me.

But Bronwyn remained true to her word and never again tried to harm herself or our baby. I suppose I owe Jones a belated thank you for his intervention that night, for he made Bronwyn come to her senses. If he had not been with her at that crucial time in her pregnancy, I have no doubt that Bronwyn would have thrown herself headlong down a flight of stairs causing a miscarriage or at the very least, serious damage to her own body.

Smith continued to delve further into the well of Jones' memories of that day…

_Jones helped her to her feet and put his arm reassuringly around her shoulders. "It'll be OK, Bronwyn. I'll always be here to take care of you."_

"_Can I ask you something about Smith?" Bronwyn asked._

"_Sure."_

"_You've worked with him for years and probably know him better than anyone. He just doesn't seem like the kind of man who would develop paternal feelings. Ever. He is sick and evil. He is incapable of giving her the love she needs from a father. Why is he so obsessed about being involved in my baby's life?"_

_I have known Smith for more years than I would ever divulge to you, Jones thought. "I'm not sure, Bronwyn. I guess it's because this is the first child he's ever fathered. But I suppose that now that it has happened, he sees this child as an extension of himself and can't bear the idea of being far away from it. I think he is curious about the life he has created and like any new father-to-be, he wants to be involved in the child's life somehow."_

"_Over my dead body!" Bronwyn said fiercely, with a display of spirit that made Jones proud. "Do you think that's what he wants to do, get close enough to her so that he can corrupt and twist her mind until she is as evil as he is?"_

"_From what I know about Smith, that sounds exactly like something he would do and it is crucial that you and I keep his contact with the child at an absolute minimum. The further she is from Smith and his influence, the more likely it is that your involvement in her life as her mother will enable her to have a normal, happy childhood."_

"_Amen to that," said Bronwyn fervently. "I know it might sound hypocritical of me to say this, especially after what happened earlier tonight, but I would honestly rather see this child dead than for her to get to know her father. I mean, most parents can give their children unconditional love and teach them to be better people—what can he give her? Lessons on how to load and fire a Desert Eagle pistol in 5 seconds flat?"_

"_Actually, under the right circumstances, a good marksman should be able to do it in less than that, but I get your point."_

_Bronwyn was now back to her usual jovial self and the thought of maligning Smith behind his back made her feel too good to abandon the subject so quickly. "Can you imagine him sitting in a sandbox, playing with her? He'd be so mad that he got his precious suit dirty trying to teach her how to build a sandcastle!" The images that came to her mind made her double over in laughter. _

_Jones chuckled heartily in response. I care for you so much Bronwyn, he thought, slipping his arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze. If it had not been for you, I never would have known how good it feels to laugh. You are the one who brought me out of my shell and taught me how to laugh in the first place. It wasn't long after Christmas, if I recall correctly and we were still getting used to being in another's company…_

_It was in the middle of winter and the sidewalks were covered with a thin layer of snow. Bronwyn had insisted on walking home after her shift in the cash office at the club Mickey owned. _

"_I can walk home by myself you know," Bronwyn protested when she saw Jones waiting for her outside the employee's entrance. "I'm a big girl, Jones."_

_He shrugged and held out her coat for her. She took it from him and they walked out into the snowy night. Pretending to tie her shoe, Bronwyn knelt down, grabbed a handful of the sticky snow at her feet, and formed it into a snowball. Because her coat was still open, she was able to hide her newly created projectile behind her back and waited for the right opportunity. With a sure and steady hand, she threw the snowball and managed to nail Jones directly between his broad shoulders._

_When Jones turned around to look at Bronwyn for the reason she had done this, she burst out laughing at the expression on his face. Her amusement was contagious and Jones could not restrain his lips from twitching._

"_Oh my God!" Bronwyn yelled in mock alarm. "Jones, is that a smile I see on your face? Quick! Someone call CNN!" _

_Jones bit his lip and gnawed the smile away. "I was not smiling," he said, his voice serious as always._

"_Aw, come on, Jones. Yes, you were--admit it. Besides, it wouldn't kill you to learn how to smile, you know. Your face won't crack, I promise." She laughed again, remembering how she had once thought how nice it would be to show an emotion of any kind on his face. Tonight was the closest he had ever gotten to expressing something other than the stoic expression he had always worn since as long as he and Bronwyn had known each other._

_She watched warily as he knelt and gathered some snow of his own before rising to his feet and facing her. "You wouldn't dare!" she squealed, knowing without question that he was going to return fire at her with a snowball of his own. She stood her ground, raised her chin, and stuck out her tongue at him in a show of bravado._

"_Go on, try and hit me, Jones," she called out. "You probably couldn't hit the side of a barn! Show me what you've got. I can take it."_

_Jones drew his arm back and threw the snowball. It hit Bronwyn and she staggered backward, knocked off-balance. For Jones hadn't realized until then that something as inherently harmless as a snowball could become a potentially dangerous flying object if it were thrown with the strength of an agent behind it._

"_Bronwyn! Are you all right?" Jones yelled as he ran toward her. Using his agent reflexes, he caught her before she fell. Her eyes were closed and her body was still and unmoving. He lowered her to the ground and tried to revive her. _

_Without warning, her eyes popped open and Jones felt her hands purposefully go inside his jacket, homing in on his midsection, her fingers twitching and squirming at his waist. He was confused and a little angry until he understood what she was doing. She's trying to tickle me, he thought, and it took him a fraction of a millisecond to realize that he was ticklish._

"_Oooh," she said grinning mischievously, "looks like my Big Bad Secret Agent Man is ticklish."_

"_No, I'm not," he protested, trying not to laugh but his mouth curved up into a smile despite his best efforts. "But you are," he said, determined to turn the tables on her and give her a taste of her own medicine. What would Smith say if he could see us now, Jones thought, as he and Bronwyn playfully wrestled together in the snow. I don't know and I don't care because for the first time in my life, I am having fun and I like it! _

_He straddled Bronwyn and she lay underneath him, giggling, and her hands were held above her head. Jones could feel the rounded lump of her body against his and the unexpected proximity of their bodies came to them both at the same time._

_If he wanted to, he could kiss me Bronwyn thought, swallowing nervously as she realized how close Jones' face was in relation to her own at this moment. If I could get free, I could touch him with my hand and finally know what his skin would feel like. She yearned to touch him, to spread her hands along the wide expanse of his broad chest, to feel for herself the strength and firm tone of the muscles she could almost make out the outline of as they rippled underneath his shirt. _

_She already knew how strong Jones was for she had not forgotten how easily and effortlessly he had picked her up in his arms that night she felt the baby move for the first time. Neither did Bronwyn forget that Jones had run the entire distance back to where she lived as well as racing up the four flights of stairs, taking them three at a time, without breaking a sweat or even being out of breath._

_Jones, on the other hand, still imprisoned both of her wrists in one hand while the other hovered over the areas of her body that his data showed might be the most susceptible to tickling: underneath her arms and around her waist…_

_Smith could never feel what I do for Bronwyn, he thought, bringing himself back to the present, and he kissed the top of her head as she leaned against him. She made me feel things inside I never allowed myself to experience up until now. _

_Smith always looked down his nose at humans and their irrepressible need to express their emotions feely and openly, but now I see that until I met and got to know Bronwyn, she freed me from the cage I had willingly locked myself into; my desire to be like Smith and follow his example. Both Agent Brown and I modeled our behaviour on Smith's example—remaining cold and stern-faced at all times, never expressing our emotions or feelings to other programs, let alone the humans with whom we had any contact. _

_That night in bed, Jones held Bronwyn in his arms and watched as she slept. Perhaps after this child is born, I could talk to the Architect about arranging it so that Bronwyn and I could have a baby of our own, he thought, a glimmer of hope spreading through him. _

_As Jones continued to hold her, to reassure her even in her sleep that he would always be there for her, he noticed that the movement inside Bronwyn's womb had intensified to a degree that alarmed him. However, his fears were dispelled when Bronwyn showed no sign of distress; she continued to sleep contentedly in the crook of his arm. But it was a recollection of something she said earlier that made him think twice about the intensity of the child's movements and the reason for it. She mentioned that the baby seemed to be more active when Smith was around. Could he be nearby now, perhaps prowling around outside, Jones wondered._

_Slowly and gently, he slipped out of bed, taking care not to disturb Bronwyn, went to the living room and looked idly out of the window. He did not feel the need to turn on the lights for the quiet of the darkness suited him just fine. The night was warm and clear and in these early hours of the morning, very little stirred in the streets below by way of human activity. _

_His attention was caught by the sight of a familiar black Audi sedan that was parked across the street and Jones bristled in anger and annoyance as he saw its owner leaning nonchalantly against the car, all the while gazing up that the very window that Jones himself was looking out of. As he watched, he saw Smith pull out his cell phone. As Jones expected, the phone beside him rang and he leaned over to answer it before it could ring again and wake up Bronwyn._

"_What?" Jones said brusquely._

"_That's no way to talk to your former superior, Jones," Smith said chidingly. _

"_What do you want?"_

"_I received some disturbing messages from my baby tonight. What the hell is going on over there?"_

"_Nothing, Smith. Nothing is going on."_

"_Liar," Smith snarled. "Bronwyn was trying to hurt my child, wasn't she? What was she doing, Jones, punching herself in the stomach?"_

_Something like that, Jones thought to himself. "Everything's fine now. Stop calling her, stop hounding her. Just leave us alone."_

"_The hell I will. She is carrying my child and I will never leave her alone."_

"_If you continue to bother her, she will have another setback and this time, she might end up losing the baby. Is that what you want?"_

"_Of course it isn't."_

"_But even though you know the risks, you won't leave her alone, will you?" Jones did not wait for an answer; there was no need. He already knew. "That's a shame, Smith, it really is."_

_There was something about Jones' tone that did not sit well with Smith. He knows something, Smith thought, as he furrowed his brow. _

"_Do you know what Bronwyn and I did today, Smith?" Jones asked with a smug tone._

"_Aside from having sex for the umpteenth time, I can't possibly imagine," Smith said dryly._

"_Whether or not Bronwyn and I make love once or even ten times a day, isn't any of your goddamn business. No, Bronwyn and I spent about an hour picking names for the baby." He knew by the sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line that Smith was positively livid with rage. I was not your assistant all those years for nothing, Jones thought. I still know how to push all your buttons._

"_How nice of you to choose names for _my_ child when _you_ can never have one of your own! Damn you, Jones!" Smith snarled, all trace of indifferent unconcern from his voice and manner was gone now and a killing rage took their place. He heard Jones' deep chuckle of amusement at his expense before he hung up…. _

Without a second thought, Smith deleted all of Jones' memories after the point of his meeting them in the mall that one Saturday afternoon. That horrible, awful day when his child was nearly lost. Watching the interaction of Jones and Bronwyn and the love that they shared between them had become much too painful. However, I will retain everything between Bronwyn and Jones leading up to that point, before they became intimate, for something that Jones might have seen said or done in the early stages of their relationship might be of use to me. Our circumstances are very similar—Jones had to deal with all the problems and peculiarities of a pregnant female, learning as he went along. For the first and only time, his knowledge and experience exceeds mine and I will take from his experiences all that I need to make living with _her_ easier.

I will not repeat the same mistakes that I made with Bronwyn, Smith thought. I will not risk losing this child as well. If need be, I will handcuff the clone who houses her to my wrist until my baby is ready to be born into this world. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that afterward, Sarah will not take my child and vanish from my side as Bronwyn once attempted to do.

During the time that Jones was growing closer to Bronwyn, his constant presence was becoming more and more acceptable to my unborn child. I remember her being very curious about why Jones was always at Bronwyn's side but I was not. But how could I have explained it to her in a way that she could understand? Could I have said: 'Your mother hates me because I perpetrated an act of violence on her and that is how you were conceived?' Or, 'Jones is with your mother to keep her safe from me?' Hardly.

I didn't realize it at the time, but Jones had evolved since becoming an exile. In fact, he had evolved to the point of actually feeling love towards the woman who would have given birth to my daughter--where he even hoped that Bronwyn and he could have a child of their own. Fat chance the Architect would have ever allowed that to happen, Smith thought maliciously. He frowned as he perused Jones' memories of that particular day, for it was the first of many that did not end with an intimate encounter of some kind. I never realized until now that their relationship was not based on sex alone; but of mutual respect and caring on both sides.

However, I do remember a time when Jones did not care for expectant human females one bit. If I had only told her, perhaps she would have seen him in a different light; she would not have been tempted to wonder about the possibility of having a relationship with him of any kind whatsoever. I wonder what Bronwyn would have thought if she had known what Jones really thought of them…

_Mr. Regan had demanded that his first meeting with Smith take place in the open—somewhere public and the rebel had requested that the leader of the agents not come alone. _

_Agent Brown was on a direct assignment from the Mainframe and Smith had no choice but to have Agent Jones accompany him._

"_He's late," Jones commented, looking at his watch._

"_Don't worry; he'll be here," Smith said confidently, his eyes glancing around the open space of the park. He and Jones had selected a bench that was relatively close to a playground and the shrill laughter of children at play could be heard in the background. Mr. Regan had selected it especially since he thought the presence of so many humans would be a deterrent on any untoward activities Smith might have in mind. It was a beautiful summer's day and the park was full of people, old and young, male and female._

_Smith's eyes were caught by the sight of two expectant mothers conversing with one another from a bench not far from the one where he and Jones were seated. "Look over there, Jones, at those two women. Tell me what you see."_

_Jones obeyed his superior's instructions and scrutinized the two females. "I see two women who are pregnant. By the proximity of their bodies towards one another and by the sound of their laughter and the smiles on their faces, I would say that they are very close friends."_

_Smith sighed and could not refrain from rolling his eyes. "You always manage to reduce things to its simplest form, Jones. What I meant was: what do you see? Do you find those women pretty, even in their expectant state?"_

_Jones scowled. It figures that Smith would automatically categorize any female he laid eyes on as either attractive or unattractive. He always did have a wandering eye towards the opposite sex, Jones mused. Not as bad as the Merovingian obviously, but running a close second._

"_I've never seen females, human or otherwise, who could be called good-looking while expecting their offspring. I have always thought that pregnancy made them all look as if a parasite had latched onto them and was sucking the life out of them. Like that of a mosquito—for both a child and a mosquito need to be physically attached to its Host to survive. Pregnancy has a way of turning even the most beautiful of women into walking, talking, overstuffed organisms: their bodies are swollen beyond all recognition and even their facial features become bloated and coarse." Jones grimaced in distaste and he and Smith continued to watch the women as they in turn glanced over their shoulders at the two handsome and well-dressed men who kept staring at them._

"_Not a bad assessment, Jones," Smith commented approvingly. "But what has made you so cynical? Did something happen in your meeting with the Architect the other day?"_

_Jones scowled again. "You might say that. It seems that dear old Dad got the idea in his head that if we agents were able to marry, we might be more acceptable and approachable to certain members of the Resistance who might wish to be re-inserted into the Matrix."_

"_Marry!" Smith threw back his head and laughed boisterously. Even the two women in the neighbouring bench stopped their conversation and looked at him curiously when they heard his outburst. "And when, pray tell, am I to wish you joy? Who is your bride-to-be?" Smith tried to keep a straight face as he watched his underling scowl yet again._

"_Some bubble-headed blonde who works for the Frenchman's wife. But fortunately, the Architect thought better of the idea."_

_Smith's brief bout of humour disappeared when he saw their human informant, Mr. Regan, coming towards them…._

Sarah watched the myriad of emotions play over Smith's face and a shiver of fear coursed through her when she saw a slight, knowing smirk twist his mouth. She could feel him staring at her intently and when Smith jerked his chin sharply at his clone, she was not sorry to be forced to return to what was now her only sanctuary from Smith.

Not only that, but she needed time and space to analyze the data she had been given unexpected access to and Sarah turned her face away from him and tried to digest what she had just learned. Whether by negligence or intoxication, Smith had been careless, inadvertently allowing Sarah to see and hear all that he himself had just remembered from Jones' past.

So Bronwyn had tried to hurt herself when she was pregnant, Sarah thought grimly. Well, she may have been talked out of it, but I certainly won't be. With all the clones around me watching my every move, throwing myself down some stairs certainly is not an option, but perhaps there is another way…and it was Jones himself that suggested it. But in order for my plan to work, I will need my own body back.

lllll

Smith leaned back negligently in his chair and fell into a brown study. He intentionally kept the clone that housed Sarah inside always close to him and always in his line of sight.

I must do something about this current situation, he thought, frowning slightly. While what had happened between us the other day had been pleasurable for me only, to put it bluntly, but by no means am I content to leave things as they are now. I do not relish the idea that any further intimacy with Sarah might be perceived as homosexual in nature by anyone, even his other selves, since it was only by using his clone's form that I was able to have sexual relations with her in the first place.

Politically correct people might call me a homophobe, Smith thought to himself, but I do not care. I have to admit the truth: that I still desire to have Sarah in a sexual sense, but only in her capacity and form as a woman.

lllll

"Smith," Sarah said hesitantly, "I was wondering if I may have my own body back for a while?"

Smith glanced at her through his bloodshot eyes but said nothing for a long time. "Why?"

"Because that idiot clone I am now a part of doesn't eat. _At all_," she said, stressing the last two words of her sentence. She could see the realization of what she was saying reveal itself in his eyes and decided to press her point home in such a way that he would have no choice but to grant her request. If she wasn't able to eat, then neither was their child.

"I need to eat something, Smith," she said, injecting just the right amount of concern in her voice. "For the baby's sake."

"You're right, Sarah." Smith agreed readily, getting to his feet and removing the Desert Eagle revolver from under his left arm. "You've served me well," he said, his blue eyes focused on the identical ones of his other self. "But your usefulness has come to an end."

"Smith, wait!" Sarah yelled as she saw his finger tighten on the trigger. When the bullet entered the skull of the clone, Sarah was instantly freed. She slumped to the floor, her body shaking and perspiration flooding from every pore from shock and horror. Taking a few deep breaths to ensure she really was alive and unharmed, it took a while before she felt anywhere strong enough to get to her feet.

Smith took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm OK, but don't do that again or at least give me a little warning next time?" she snapped. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"It was the only way to free you," he replied easily. He scanned her figure from top to bottom. Sarah's clothes were now tight on her body. Her pregnancy has advanced and she's gotten larger, he saw with satisfaction. To human eyes, she looks about five months pregnant.

Smith reached out and put his hand on Sarah's distended womb. I was never able to do this with Bronwyn, he thought, smiling as he felt his child move inside its mother. I touched Bronwyn like this only once, on the night she lost our baby. Jones was her side for too many months—_he _was the one who felt my child move, not me. However, this time will be different.

It is true that I missed quite a bit of Sarah's pregnancy; but from this time on, I will always be by her side and able to have this contact with my child as much as I wish. Not only that, but I will be able to have _her_ as much as I wish. He drew Sarah to his body and Smith growled in pleasure when his lips touched hers, his hands reaching up to cup her larger and fuller breasts. Knowing that this would inevitably lead to intercourse, Sarah brought her hands up to Smith's chest and pushed him away from her.

"No, Smith. Not now. I'm tired," she lied, trying to sound as believable as she could for what was the point of lying to Smith if she could not at least be convincing? Smith saw for himself the exhaustion in her face and retreated.

"All right," he said, and Sarah was encouraged that it seemed that he not only believed her but something in his eyes told her that he understood.

"If it's OK, could you give me a blanket and pillow so I can crash on your sofa for a few hours?" she asked.

"No," he said, sharply shaking his head. "The mother of my child," he murmured as he touched her belly, "will not sleep on something as uncomfortable as my sofa. Give me an hour or so to get some furniture in the bedroom and you can have a proper bed to sleep in. I've never had a use for the room until now and it is just sitting empty."

"Okay," Sarah agreed. I am too tired to argue because I really do not care where I sleep right now—I _am _tired.

When everything was prepared for her, Sarah entered Smith's bedroom for the first time. The king sized bed at the other end of the room beckoned to her and she accepted its silent invitation to lose herself in its large expanse. She sat on the end of it and bounced tentatively up and down to test the firmness of the mattress.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. When she answered the door, she found one of Smith's clones at the door, its arms full of boxes of clothing. Sarah brought the clothes to the bed and examined them at leisure, curious at to what she had been given. The boxes were from many designer shops around the city and the clothes inside were expensive.

To her surprise and delight, she was now the owner of several changes of maternity clothing for which she was grateful for the clothes she was wearing were a little tight due to her pregnancy. At the bottom of the pile, she discovered a couple of maternity nightgowns. The fabric was delicate and the quality of the lace instantly told her that they were high-priced, but Sarah did not care. At least I do not have to sleep in my clothes, she thought, gratefully and quickly removing what she had been wearing and trying on what she had been given. She smoothed the nightgown over herself and admired the effect in the full-length cheval mirror.

I look more like a bride than a mother-to-be, she thought sadly, her fingertips absently touching the white fabric and the costly Irish lace. But no bride I ever heard of looked as pale and awful as I do, Sarah reflected as she gazed at herself before turning away from the mirror and putting back the covers on the bed and getting between the crisp sheets that awaited her. She did not extinguish the light for she had intended to read the titles of the books that were lined up on the nightstand table with an almost mathematical attention to neatness, and she considered taking a volume or two into bed with her to read at her leisure.

Sarah was sound asleep and did not hear the bedroom door being opened and as gently closed behind a tall silhouette that walked silently into the room. Noticing that the lamp on the nightstand had still been left on, Smith stooped to turn it off so that its brightness would not prematurely awaken Sarah.

As he looked at Sarah's sleeping form, a flash of déjà vu hit him with such intensity that for a moment Smith swayed unsteadily on his feet. He had been able to regain his composure but the memories that swirled through his conscience and mind shook him. He sat down on the bed and gently eased Sarah onto her back so he could see examine her distended body at his leisure, first with his eyes. His hands yearned to touch her skin and discover for himself the subtle yet pronounced changes in her body since he saw her last. His desire for her, awakened because of her refusal of his intentions, was dormant for now. However, it would not take much to rekindle it back into full-blown passion and lust.

He had only seen Bronwyn sleeping like this once when she was pregnant as he looked down at the tranquil form of the mother of his child. Then, as now, his baby was not asleep like its mother but wide-awake and cognizant that its father was in the room with them. Smith watched as the skin over Sarah's womb rippled with movement and he was struck dumb and silent with awe at the miracle of creation arising from his act of violation.

I was only able to be this close to Bronwyn once, he recalled sadly, but this time, I do not intend to allow any untoward action on my part to cause harm to the child I begat. I have been given a second chance: another opportunity to create and bring forth my offspring into the world of the Matrix. Moreover, this time it will not die _in utero _as the other did, dying before it was able to even draw its first breath or open its eyes. It will be born when the time is right and when it is ready.

I will protect you, Smith thought, placing his hand over where his child was the most active inside Sarah. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.

"You will see the world I am rewriting and reshaping outside of this room, this building," he murmured to his unborn child. "A perfect world and it will be yours for the taking. A place of beauty, too. The Matrix can be beautiful and I am ridding it of all the undesirables who currently inhabit the greater portion of it. My work is almost complete and when you are brought into the world, I will show it to you and we can rule it together. The three of us—you, I and your mother—will live in it in perpetuity."

The stress of the day and the imbibing of copious amounts of brandy made Smith feel sleepy and sluggish. He removed his clothes and stretched his long, lean frame beside Sarah's warm body. He fell asleep quickly, his hand covering Sarah's swollen belly in a protective gesture.

An hour or so later, Sarah awoke to the sound of a man's loud snores in bed next to her.

"Seraph?" she murmured hopefully, as she tried to turn over in bed. The man who was sleeping next to her locked her body in a firm embrace and for one glorious moment, Sarah thought it was Seraph who was holding her.

The smell of stale brandy shattered her pleasant and temporary illusion. It wasn't Seraph who was next to her, it was Smith—the father of the child inside of her who was now kicking her vigorously because it sensed the presence of its father so near to itself.

"Stop it," Sarah hissed vehemently but barely audibly, sharply jabbing at the round lump of her body. "Your father is passed out, drunk, so don't think you can tell him how mean I am to you. He won't wake up anytime soon, so settle down," she hissed quietly under her breath in the darkness. She angrily rolled over onto her side and tried to ignore the sharp pangs of hunger. Get used to it kiddo, this is just the beginning, she told herself with grim pleasure.

The next morning when Sarah awoke, she was relieved to find Smith had already left the apartment and she did not have to deal with him watching her and becoming suspicious for the slightest thing. A full plate of scrambled eggs and toast awaited her and Sarah ate it with gusto, wishing put on a convincing show of being hungry just in case the clone was watching. Sarah completely finished the meal in a very short amount of time.

Sarah knew that her best chance of success at purging would be if she did it before her food could settle. Immediately after she finished eating, she dashed to the bedroom, grabbed an outfit from her newly acquired selection of clothes and made for the bathroom.

Thankfully, there was only one clone in the entire apartment and it barely gave her a glance as she hurried past to get into the bathroom as soon as possible. It had received orders that Sarah was not to be disturbed; no one was to enter the bedroom until she came out of it. As long as Sarah did not try to leave the apartment, the clone was not to interfere or converse with her.

Once the bathroom door was shut behind her, Sarah turned on the tap in the shower to a moderate flow. In case anyone was listening at the door, the sound of the running water would only indicate she was participating in her usual morning ablutions, nothing more. She made straight for the toilet and forced her index finger into her throat as far as it would go until she had vomited up most of what she had eaten.

If there is only of them around, then I need not even bother to eat, she thought as a plan formulated in her mind. However, with my plan of not eating, if he notices or says anything, I have a foolproof excuse that will stave off any and all questions: morning sickness. Smith will surely know that almost all expectant mothers have difficulty keeping their food down and he will see for himself that I am no exception.

Smith may watch me like a hawk to make sure I am eating properly, but that doesn't mean what he gives me to eat has to stay in my stomach, does it, she thought with a triumphant sense of accomplishment. I will continue to starve myself until this child is so malnourished it will die; for there is _no way_ that I will be forced into giving birth—no way in hell.


	15. An Alternate Source of Sustenance

**An Alternate Source of Sustenance**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Matrix, the Matrix owns me.

**Summary: **Out of desperation,Sarah's unborn child discovers an alternate source of food and the very existence of the Matrix itself could collapse if its voracious appetite is not quelled in time.

The efforts of purging were exhausting Sarah to such an extent that she stopped eating altogether. With Smith absent from the apartment, there was no need to put up a show of eating; the clone that was guarding her did not care if she actually ate or not and subsequently did not notice when she stopped. As a result, Sarah was growing steadily weaker; three days of absolute fasting would take its toll on anyone and Sarah was no different. She did her best to preserve the appearance of a young woman in the beginning stages of a normal, healthy pregnancy, but as time passed, the illusion of vibrant liveliness that had been her usual level of activity was getting more and more difficult to maintain.

Whatever difficulties Sarah was experiencing because of her self-imposed withdrawal from food, it was nothing compared to the pain her unborn child was undergoing. It initially tried to appeal for help from its father, but because Smith was increasingly obsessed with discovering and thwarting The One's plan to reach the Source, his infant's pleas were ignored. Driven to its limits of endurance, the child slept often and during its periods of lucidity, it pondered and reflected how the situation could be rectified, coming to the certain conclusion that its salvation and survival depended on itself and its own resourcefulness.

It knew that since Sarah would not provide any nourishment, it would need to seek out an alternative source of sustenance if it wanted to survive. It waited until she was asleep before making the first attempt. The nearest source of energy was the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. With all the concentration it could summon, the child within her drained the remaining wattage the light bulb had until it had burnt out.

Smith's unborn infant contemplated the possibilities for it now had its own method to obtain the energy it needed to survive. It reasoned to itself that draining the light bulb dry would not be sufficient for its energy requirements. In a manner of speaking, it would only be an appetizer. Being so long without food, Sarah's unborn burden was ravenous and the energy gained from one light bulb was not nearly enough to satiate its appetite.

However, there was another and far more plentiful source of food just waiting to be tapped outside of its present locale. Since the world that was generated by the Matrix was artificial, the still plugged-in humans in their pods that provided the primary power source were not. They were real. Therefore, the child concluded that in order to have a power source that would provide enough for its needs, it would drain the electricity from as many of the humans as it could. Besides, there were over 5 billion of them—more than enough to spare and share with all the machines who also acquired their crucial power requirements from the humans.

lllll

A blinking light on the red telephone that was sitting on the desk of the Architect demanded his immediate attention. It was a direct communication link up to the Machine Overlord and the Architect knew something had to be disastrously wrong for him to be contacted using this primitive form of communication.

He picked up the phone and listened, then hurriedly opened the requisite files on his computer to confirm what he had just been told. It is only a temporary glitch in the System, he thought, his fingers quickly and nimbly racing over the keyboard, entering the information that would bypass and repair the damage the unknown power blackout had caused before it could be noticed or even remarked upon by the human and program citizens of the Matrix.

When he was done, the Architect leaned back in his chair and visibly relaxed. One potential crisis averted, he thought to himself, relieved. The power to grids LV-426 and 427 had been restored without any undue attention and things were running within normal parameters again. Within moments however, another sector followed by another began to power down. As fast as he corrected one difficulty, another one presented itself just as quickly.

The Architect watched helplessly as the surrounding grids lost power and eventually blacked out. Opening a source directory, he soon discovered from where the shutdowns were originating. He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. I will have to tell the Oracle that her newest unborn grandchild is the cause of all of this, he realized sadly. But more importantly, I will have to tell her that in order for the Matrix to continue as it has done for the past two centuries, Sarah's child will have to be sacrificed for I cannot run the risk of allowing it to survive. If it has managed to do so much damage in one day, what will the consequences of its actions be tomorrow? Or next week, for that matter? She and Smith's child will have to die to ensure the survival of the rest of us. I cannot wait any longer.

"_Don't you even think about it," _the Oracle's voice accosted him from where she stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with anger.

The Architect sighed in exasperation. First, I had to deal with Neo and his threats, now this. "I have no choice," he said, forcing himself to be calm. "If the Matrix is to survive, Smith's child will have to die and since Sarah's gestation period is not over, she will have to die too. Do you think this decision was easy for me?" he snapped, rising with instinctual courtesy to offer his compatriot a seat.

"I am perfectly satisfied with standing, thank you very much," the Oracle retorted sharply. "But this is our daughter's life we are talking about…"

"You and I have millions of what humans would refer to as 'children.' I know it's not easy to accept, but for all the others to survive, she must die."

"She's not the one who has to die; it is Smith's child inside of her," the Oracle corrected gently.

"Then show me another way! Look at this!" the Architect demanded, propelling his partner forward until she could see the computer screen. "Look for yourself--see if you can find a loophole or some other explanation for all these shutdowns!"

The Oracle bent and saw the truth for herself. "Well, I'll be goddamned," she murmured, analyzing and studying the data displayed on the monitor. The old fool is right, she thought, it _is_ Smith's child that is causing all of this.

"I am very sorry, you must understand that," the Architect said sadly.

"Promise me something—promise me that you will see to it that she doesn't suffer. Promise me!" the Oracle demanded, grabbing the Architect by the lapels of his suit jacket.

"I will ensure that her end is as painless and easy for her as possible. You have my word on that." He reached for the comlink that kept him in constant touch with all of the upgrades. He contacted the upgrade nearest to Sarah's location and issued his directive.

lllll

Agent Thompson received the transmission from the Architect. "It will be done immediately, sir," he said, turning to obey.

"What will be done, Agent Thompson?" a copy of Smith said smoothly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "Never mind. I'll find out for myself." The clone shoved his hand into the chest of Thompson and accessed all of the information that the lead agent had been given by the Architect. The clone realized the implication of the transmission it had just intercepted and communicated everything to its creator without delay.

"_An upgrade is on his way to eliminate your offspring and its mother," _the message went_. "The Architect himself has given the order for their termination. Get them out of the city immediately."_

Smith acknowledged the transmission and indicated that the clones who had aided him in the killing of The Keymaker were now to follow him back to his apartment. But first, he would notify his copy that was with Sarah in the apartment to wake her up immediately and get ready for her removal from the vicinity of the upgrades' current position. The more warning he could give her, the faster she could be ready to leave, thus putting as much distance between herself and her would-be assassins as possible.

"Sarah, wake up," said the copy, insistently shaking her by the shoulder. Bleary eyed and cranky, she could only gape at him stupidly until coherence came to her slowly.

"What is it?" she said irritably, shielding her eyes from the blinding glare of the ceiling light that was hurting her eyes. "Why are you waking me up so early?" She clicked her tongue in annoyance—it had not been Smith himself who had woken her up, it was only one of his lackeys. She could not explain how she was able to tell the difference, it was something she instinctively knew.

"We have to leave. Now."

"Why? What's wrong? Are we running away?"

"I don't have time to go into detail. Just get out of bed and put something on. You will be told everything you need to know, later, when we rendezvous with my creator."

The urgency in his voice interrupted her observation of the deteriorating Matrix code around her that was becoming more and more prevalent with each passing moment. It was almost like watching a paint-by-number painting dissolving—the illusion of the picture was spoiled by the revelation of the numbers that lay beneath the surface. Or, in simpler terms, the Matrix code looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces missing; the bright green symbols that made up the outline and shape for the glass of water by her bedside was now clearly visible; however, the water inside of it looked perfectly normal.

When Sarah became more awake and alert, she looked around the room, carefully analyzing the damaged Matrix code. It was as if the shielding program had gone down for she could see the disintegration of the source code itself. What the hell is going on, she wondered, and why doesn't Smith notice the damage he is causing? Another possibility came to her mind—Smith wasn't the one responsible for altering the code at all, it was her baby.

Somehow, it found a method to feed itself when I refused to eat and this is the result. Both Smith and his baby are working to destroy the Matrix, each using different methods, but the result will be the same. In addition, if I know Father and the way he thinks, he will seek to destroy the weaker one—my baby--first before he goes after Smith. And that can only mean one thing. The upgrades will be gunning for me before long. Perhaps they are already on their way here and that is why this copy is so desperate to leave.

Sarah knew that since the upgrades were after her and they were unquestionably enemies of Smith's, then her goal and theirs would be the same—to kill my baby. Sarah found it highly ironic that after months of hiding from them, she now needed and wanted them to find her: the sooner the better. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend,_ as the old saying went.

Sarah dawdled as long as she could to give her pursuers more time to catch up with her and her attendant apprehensive guardian. Since she had completely abstained from food for almost three days now, Sarah was weak and in no condition to fulfill her escort's repeated demands to hurry up. After being unceremoniously hauled by the arm out of the building by the clone, Sarah was fed up, angry and she did not hesitate giving the copy a piece of her mind.

"Listen, moron," she said, whirling around and wagging an accusatory finger almost in its very face, "in case you are blind or just plain stupid, I am nearly six months pregnant. I couldn't run even if I wanted to, so stop bugging me!" she yelled furiously.

The copy opened its mouth to give her an angry retort and Sarah recoiled in horror when she found herself no longer staring at a copy of Smith, but the dead form of a program.

Agent Johnson's gun was still smoking as he reached inside his jacket and holstered the weapon. To her surprise, he was alone. She peered around him, expecting his two attendant shadows--Thompson and Jackson--to appear at his side at any moment. However, they never materialized.

"Where are the others?"

"Agent Jackson is, at this moment, falling out of a high-rise window in an attempt to kill the rebel named Trinity, and Agent Thompson is investigating the destruction of a major power plant."

"So that leaves you to kill me, is that it?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. The Architect deemed it necessary that I should do this as I am the most efficient at close-range termination."

He had fully expected her to run once she saw him: any of the upgrades' targets, whether human or program, always automatically turned to flee when they saw himself or Agents Jackson and Thompson in pursuit. The leader of the upgrades was momentarily taken aback at her calm attitude and frowned to himself at the resignation and sadness he saw in her eyes. She will not run, he realized, for she wanted me to find her.

Sarah smiled wryly at his not-too-well hidden pride in his abilities and nodded her understanding of the situation.

"You have to kill me because of the baby and what it is doing to the Matrix code, right?"

"Yes. Your child is causing all the havoc that is occurring everywhere. The Architect decreed its demise in order to prevent any more damage."

"I've noticed the distortions in the Matrix source code too, although I thought it was a direct result of Smith and the countless times he has duplicated himself."

"So did we, although the Machine Overlord was the one who originally made the connection between all these power blackouts and your offspring. He has demanded that the Architect order its immediate termination, and since your gestation period is not complete…"

"…I have to die too before it can drain any more power from the System," Sarah finished. "Although I feel easier about dying now that I've gotten to know you a bit better. It's ironic isn't it? I've spent so much time looking over my shoulder as I ran and hid from you and now I am happy to see you because we both want this child dead. What else did dear old Dad tell you to do? If I remember the rules, agents have to kill their targets as quickly as possible, not chat with them."

"I was informed to make your end as painless as possible," Agent Johnson stated with blunt simplicity.

Normally in the case of capturing an exile, Agent Johnson and his fellow upgrades orders were to shoot on sight. However, in Sarah's case, he had been given specific instructions from the Architect on how he was to proceed. He was to terminate her existence in the most humane and painless method available and was to do no undue physical harm to her: the Architect had specified that his daughter's body not be disfigured in any way.

In other words, Agent Johnson had one of two options: one was to break her neck while the other was manual strangulation. Strangling her would take more time, and it would undoubtedly leave marks whereas breaking her neck, death was immediate and showed little or no trauma. He was specifically ordered _not_ to use his Desert Eagle revolver to kill her. It would be bad enough for the Oracle to know that Sarah had been killed, she certainly did not need to know that a bullet had blown her beautiful daughter's head apart.

"May I make one last request?" Sarah asked, a wry smile playing on her face. Agent Johnson nodded his head in agreement.

"Actually, I lied, Agent Johnson. There are _two _things I'd like to ask you to do for me."

"What are they?" he asked.

"First, will you tell Seraph that I love him and that I'm sorry for everything?"

"Consider it done," he said. "And the second?"

"I would like you to kiss me."

Agent Johnson's brow furrowed in confusion. "I have no objections to that, but for the sake of my own curiosity, I would like to know the reason."

"The reason is because I do not wish the last man I ever kiss to be Smith, that's why." Sarah brought her head up and looked directly into the blue eyes of the leader of the newest breed of Matrix agents. "Will you do it?"

The large agent solemnly nodded. "I will."

A slight smile crossed Sarah's face. "You'd better make it a good one, Agent Johnson," she teased lightly, "because the reputation of the upgrades' kissing ability is in your hands. Not only that, but it will be the last kiss I will ever experience, so make it as memorable as possible."

"I'll do my best," he responded in kind. He held Sarah by the shoulders and she rested her hands against the formidable breadth of Agent Johnson's chest. Sarah slid her hands around his waist and drew him closer to her. It is too bad that I can't be with Seraph like this and feel his body next to mine, she thought, but at least it's not Smith. Anyone, even this upgrade, is better than being with him at my death. She resolutely raised her face to his. Their lips met and Sarah was pleasantly surprised at the gentleness and the skill with which Agent Johnson kissed her.

Smith was a blundering teenaged boy on his first date compared to this, Sarah thought, responding and returning the kiss. Agent Johnson is not nearly as good as Seraph at kissing, she thought, but he has more ability than Smith ever did.

Desire washed over Sarah and she deepened the kiss, heartened when she felt him do the same. Her mouth opened further to welcome and accommodate her partner's tongue and she gave a small moan when his tongue touched hers. Her breathing quickened and she wrapped her arms around Agent Johnson's neck. He, too, was becoming aroused and his arms curved gently around Sarah's somewhat burgeoning waist and drew her as close as he dared. After a moment, he removed his hands from her midsection and slid them up her forearms, savouring the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. Sarah shivered and groaned with wildly awakening desire when his fingers lightly touched her breast then stroked the hard peak of her nipple.

Due to time restrictions, the kiss had to be cut off at this stage for the upgrade had had his instructions direct from the Architect himself and there was little time left to complete his task. Besides, for all Agent Johnson knew, an entire legion of Smith's clones was now on their way to Sarah and the spawn of Smith had to die immediately before any more damage could be done.

It was unfortunate that the child's mother has to die as well, Agent Johnson thought, for it would have been very intriguing to carry this very pleasurable amorous encounter farther and see where it might lead. But for all that, I am still on duty. I cannot dally with her any longer, however much I would like to.

"That wasn't too well done," he said awkwardly, "if only…"

"I know," Sarah said softly, "if only there was only more time…Well, I'm sure Father would not like to know that we've been wasting precious time smooching on a street corner, so you had better do what you came here to do," she said, her smile disappearing as she recognized that the end of her life was at hand. Pausing for a moment to gather her courage, she buried her face in the front of his shirt, her cheek against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his clothing.

With a sigh, Sarah pulled away reluctantly, her hand lightly caressing the strong jawline of her killer before looking deep into his eyes. At least Smith's face will not be the last one I will ever see, she thought, grateful that her heart's deepest, unspoken wish would be granted.

"I love you," Sarah murmured. Agent Johnson knew she wasn't speaking to him directly; they were the last words from a dying woman to the man she loved and the leader of the agents resolved that he would relay them to whom they were intended—Seraph.

With a rueful smile, he gently wiped away the tears that had fallen from her eyes as she continued to look at him. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Sarah," he whispered as he impulsively kissed the top of her head, "but I have no choice."

"I know," she said, her grief at never seeing Seraph again constricting her throat and choking her words. When she felt his hands on either side of her face under her jaw, Sarah closed her eyes, breathed deeply and waited to die.


	16. Deal With the Devil

**Deal With the Devil**

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix, the Matrix owns me.

Summary: Smith makes an offer to Sarah, and it is one that she cannot refuse.

"No, I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to kill Sarah, Agent Johnson," a snide voice behind the couple said. "For if you haven't noticed or even heard, she is carrying my unborn child." Before Agent Johnson even had time to realize it was Smith behind him, a gunshot rang out, breaking the stillness of the night with the loud report that echoed off the simulated man-made canyons of steel and glass of the buildings around them.

"NO!" Sarah yelled as she watched Agent Johnson slump to the ground, a gaping hole in his forehead where the bullet from Smith's gun entered his skull. Sarah fell to her knees beside his body. She took his hand in hers and held it as if that had the power to restore life and animation to his lifeless deep blue eyes. All her hopes to end the life of herself and her child had rested with the leader of the upgrades. Now that he was gone, there was no one left who could relieve her of the abomination that was growing inside of her. No one.

"Get up, Sarah," Smith ordered. When she made no move to obey or even acknowledge that his statement had even been heard, Smith yanked her upwards by the elbow. As soon as she was on her feet, she lashed out at him like a Fury possessed, enraged beyond all measure.

She shrieked inarticulate sounds of rage as she flew at him, her fingernails poised and ready like the drawn claws of a hunted cat that had been backed into a corner and had no other way to defend itself. She scratched and bit wherever her nails and teeth could reach.

"I hate you!" she yelled. "You are vile and disgusting and I hate this thing you put inside of me! I hate you both!" Sarah screamed and hit herself in the stomach as hard as she could.

Ignoring her own pain and with a savage sense of triumph, she watched as Smith put his hand against his midriff and flinched from the agony she knew he felt inside of him. So that's how he found me at the motel, she thought. Whatever my baby feels, so can he. When that doctor began the abortion procedure, Smith felt everything and he went searching for us and the pain he was feeling led him straight to our location. In this one instance, the unique bond they share has worked to my advantage. "Now _you_ know what it's like to feel pain. How does it feel, you bastard?" Sarah snarled.

"Bitch!" Smith hissed, drawing his hand back and slapping her face with enough force so that she stumbled backwards into the hard, unyielding embrace of the clone behind her. At a nod from its creator, it pinned Sarah's' arms close to her body, preventing her from escaping.

"Goddamn you Smith, tell your stupid look-alike flunky to let me go!" she yelled, writhing and twisting her body to no avail; she was trapped and nothing she could do would be enough to free herself of the clone's iron grip.

"Calm down, Sarah. You can't escape; he won't let you go until I tell him to, so stop fighting. I have a proposition for you. However, if you continue to be obstinate, I will gladly have your lover beaten more thoroughly than he already has been." Smith stepped nimbly aside so Sarah could see the limp form of Seraph being dragged forward by his upper arms by two of Smith's copies. Sarah gasped in horror at the state in which he had been left.

"Seraph…no," she moaned. "What the fuck did you do to him?" she yelled at the clones. She became even angrier when she saw them catch one another's eye and smirk.

His face was horribly swollen with cuts and bruises and blood dripped down his face. At Smith's signal, the two copies unceremoniously dropped their ghastly deadweight burden at Sarah's feet and Seraph fell facedown onto the cold, hard concrete of the sidewalk with a nauseating thud. Smith placed a broad foot between the shoulder blades of his long-time adversary and aimed his Desert Eagle revolver at the base of Seraph's head.

"All Seraph got was a little payback for what he did to them. Nothing more, nothing less. Once you've calmed down Sarah, we will discuss this like reasonable people, minus the hysterics and emotional outbursts, for I find this is getting very repetitive and tiresome." Smith said silkily. "A life for a life is a fair exchange, I think. If you take care of yourself from now on, I will allow this poor excuse of a program lying at my feet to live. If, however, you continue to starve yourself or harm yourself in any way whatsoever, I will kill him as surely as you are killing my unborn child by refusing to eat. What is it going to be, Sarah? If my child lives, then Seraph will live; it is as simple as that."

Sarah frantically tried to think of any way out of Smith's appalling contract, but she could not.

"I'm waiting for an answer," he said, a bite of impatience in his voice. To drive his point about the sincerity of his intentions home, Smith cocked his gun. "I mean it. I will give you to the count of three before I pull the trigger; and a word to the wise: don't ever call my bluff because if you do, you will lose, I promise you. The countdown begins now. One…"

_He won't really go through with this, will he_, Sarah asked herself.

"….two…"

_Oh my God, he's going to do it!_ She saw his mouth and lips form the word 'three'. "No, please don't!" she yelled out frantically before he had a chance to say the word that would end Seraph's life.

"Why shouldn't I?" With one shove of his foot, he kicked the prone form of Seraph away from him with disdain.

"Because I love him! Please, Smith!" she begged, "I'll do anything, _anything_ you want, but for God's sake, don't kill him!" Sarah wrenched herself free from the copy's grip and sank to her knees before Smith, placing her hands around his ankles, her face on her wrists. "Please," she whispered, "I'll do anything you want me to."

"Yes, I know you will," Smith said quietly, and smiled smugly to himself; it was pleasing to him to see her grovel at his feet. The expression on his face was not an agreeable sight and if Sarah had seen it, she would have known that it did not bode well for her. Nevertheless, even if she had, Sarah would not have cared, for she was one of those women who would sacrifice her very existence to spare that of her soul mate. If Smith had demanded that she crawl on her hands and knees before him for all eternity, or debase herself in a hundred different ways, Sarah would gladly have done it if it meant that Seraph would be safe.

"If you let him go now and take him to Mother so she can nurse him back to health, then I will do whatever you want. I will eat properly, take my pre-natal vitamins, and see a doctor. Whatever it takes. I'll be a good little mother-to-be from now on. I will give you a healthy child even if it kills me. Just don't kill Seraph, please!"

"Do you mean that?" Smith asked softly. He bent down and to Sarah's great surprise, Smith was gentle as he assisted her to her feet. As Agent Johnson had done, Smith wiped her tears away. Sarah did not trust her voice to respond without breaking, so she nodded her agreement.

"Good," he said, satisfied with how the evening was progressing. With mere seconds to spare, I just made it in time to prevent Agent Johnson from dispatching Sarah. If they hadn't decided to impulsively make out like a couple of horny teenagers, I would have been too late, Smith thought. My child and Sarah would have been killed with a simple twitch and jerk from that overgrown Neanderthal's hands.

But I wasn't too late, he thought, idly stroking Sarah's belly and feeling the strong movements of his child as it responded to its father's touch. I made it in time to save you--despite the best efforts of your slut of a mother. I almost lost you because I was too busy, too focused on other matters rather than what is the most important to me. I will deal with Mr. Anderson very soon, and once I have beaten him, I can devote all my time focusing on my impending fatherhood.

"There is something else that I will ask of you, Sarah," Smith intoned, looking deep into her eyes.

A dozen tasks, all of them base and sexual in nature, flashed through her mind; each of them more degrading than the last.

"What is it?" she asked, justifiably wary of anything he might ask of her.

"Marry me."

The shock was absolute. He saw all the blood drain from her face and instinctively put a supportive hand at her elbow in case she should fall; however, she rallied and managed to remain upright, despite the devastating ultimatum he had just given her.

_Marry him? Is he fucking kidding,_ her mind silently screamed, and Sarah's stomach churned. There would be no escape once she was his wife; she would have to endure his caresses and satisfy his sadistic sexual tendencies every time he wanted her. The idea of spending every night for the rest of her existence in his bed made her shrink from him in revulsion.

Smith caught the movement and sneered. "If you do not marry me, then I will kill Seraph." At her continuous, helpless gaping stare of incomprehensible horror, he smirked. "Shall I go down on one knee and ask for your hand? Isn't that the way a man proposes to a woman?"

"Why are you asking this of me? You don't love me and you know damn well that I could never love you in return, so why?" she begged. "Why marriage, though? If you want me to stay with you, I will, but don't, for God's sake, ask me to marry you!"

"If we just lived together, you could leave me any time you wished and take my child with you and there would be nothing I could do about it. As your husband, however, I will have certain lawful and constitutional rights under the laws of the Matrix and if you did leave, I would have legal and official authorization to search for you. The laws that bind us are quite different from those governing the humans, especially where the welfare of a child is concerned. If you know anything about the laws that the Oracle and the Architect put in place overseeing the conduct of programs, you know that everything I've said is true."

"Are you doing this to punish me? And are you going to threaten his life every time you want something of me?"

"Right on both counts," Smith said. "Furthermore, I am letting you know right now that I will demand my rights as a husband. For you know as well as anyone of the insatiable nature of my sexual appetites and you can be certain that I will most definitely desire physical comfort from my wife. That being said, I am telling you right now that I will insist on having a traditional wedding night," he said, with a wickedly lustful grin enveloping his face for a moment before he became serious again. "Besides, there would be many obvious advantages to our union, Sarah. I have become the most powerful program in the Matrix. Think of it! I can give you anything your heart desires. Why, just the money I have in my pocket right now could buy you more than Seraph ever could in a hundred lifetimes. You've been without the finer things in life for too long, Sarah. You've never known the advantages that having a lot of money can bring."

"You are right, Smith. I hate to admit it, but I know what it's like to be poor. However, I do know that money can't buy happiness. Persephone and the Merovingian always had money, but they were never truly happy. After watching them being miserable during all the years I worked for Persephone, I learned that love, security and trust in a marriage cannot be purchased at any price. I've always thought that marriage should be about giving and receiving love, not material things."

Smith scoffed. "Have you ever noticed that it is always poor people who say '_money can't buy happiness_?' One of the most common reasons why marriages fail is because of a lack of money. As for love, trust and security—they are childish and fanciful ideas, nothing more."

But I love Seraph, Sarah thought desperately to herself, I want _him_ to be my husband, not you! No amount of money and power in the world could ever erase the memories of what your copies did to me, while you watched and laughed and revelled in my pain. Every time you reach for me, I will recoil from your slightest touch; but with Seraph, I would welcome his caresses in the middle of the night and deep down inside, a part of you knows it. _Mother_, Sarah thought, _tell me what to do!_ I would rather spit in your arrogant face than become your wife—but I know that if I do not agree to it, Seraph will die. If he is to survive, I have no choice.

"If you take Seraph to Mother's place so she can tend to him, I will marry you tonight."

"It's a fairly reasonable request," Smith conceded, "and one which I will agree to, but only in part. I will _not_ just send my best bargaining chip for your future good behaviour out of my sight so easily. Here is my alternative: I will not send Seraph to the Oracle's to be treated. Instead, I will have her brought to him—under heavy guard of course—and she can tend to him in a location of my choosing. Agreed?"

Sarah contemplated Smith's alternative. The most important thing is that he gets the help he needs, she thought. The location doesn't matter, after all. "All right. What is your intention with Seraph afterwards, then?"

"Oh, I will keep him in close confinement in case you need a reminder from time to time that his life is entirely in your hands." Sarah said nothing but Smith deduced that from the anger he saw in her face that if looks could kill, he would have been struck dead where he stood.

"And as for the rest of you," he said, looking around at his copies, "I want to be alone for a moment with my bride-to-be." When he and Sarah were alone, he took her in his arms and smiled when he felt her flinch at his touch.

"Why so shy all of a sudden, Sarah? You were eager enough when Agent Johnson was holding you like this. I saw the whole thing. If I hadn't arrived when I did, you two would have been tearing at each other's clothes, so don't begrudge me a quick grope. He may have a more impressive physique than I, but my technique and skill can arouse you as well he could." He caressed her breast and pinched her nipple slightly, chuckling deep in his throat when he felt it harden completely. Not wishing to endure his touch a moment longer than she had to, Sarah desperately thought of a distraction.

"If we are going to be married, you will have to buy me an engagement ring."

"So I do," he murmured, his lips nuzzling her neck. "What kind would you like?"

"Not a diamond one," she said, thinking quickly. "I never did like them much. However, there is a nice ring with rubies in the window of that jewellery store near Sunrise Boulevard and Bay Avenue North."

"Shall we go then," he said, gallantly offering his hand to her as they walked to his car. Willing herself not to cringe when she touched him, Sarah took his arm; this way, she wouldn't have to actually touch his skin. To her dismay, she saw Seraph slumped in the backseat—his head was leaning backward against the leather headrest and his eyes were closed.

"He needs medical attention, _now_! You promised me you'd let Mother see him!" Sarah said accusingly.

"I told you the truth: I _will_ see that he gets help, but only _after_ you and I are married." At the angry look on Sarah's face, he knew he had guessed correctly. She had wanted to stall for time; the whole rigamarole about the engagement ring had been nothing more than a blind. If I had played her game, Sarah then would probably have made a fuss about insisting on a church wedding or spending hours choosing a suitable dress as a ploy to put off fulfilling her end of our deal for as long as possible.

"It's all up to you," Smith said. "The longer it takes for us to get married, the longer it will take for Seraph to get the help he needs. Was there anything else you wanted to do today, Sarah? What about a dress? Or getting your hair and nails done? Any other needful bridal tasks that have to be done, or will you finally see the light and realize that by the time we do walk down the aisle, Seraph may already be dead because of your dawdling?"

"Fuck you, Smith," Sarah said furiously. However, she did have to admit that the sooner her unplanned and completely unwanted wedding was over, the sooner Seraph could be tended and mended.

Smith leaned close to her. "That is what I intend doing with you, _Mrs._ Smith, on our wedding night, and with any luck, that should happen very soon." He laughed when he saw Sarah shudder and turn away from his intent gaze.

lllll

"That's not a proper engagement ring," Smith said scornfully as he peered through the display case at the ring Sarah pointed out. "That's a status symbol. It's gaudy and in extremely bad taste." The ring that she wanted him to purchase was garish to the extreme and the large marquise cut ruby in the centre of it was nearly one inch square. Simply put, it was hideous.

"So?" Sarah demanded. "It's what I want. I like it. If I am to become Mrs. Smith, shouldn't I have all the benefits that go with bearing that title? Why?" she asked challengingly, "after all your boasting and bragging about how much money you have, can you not afford it?"

"_Touché_, Sarah," Smith said approvingly and to his fiancée's chagrin, he laughed and without any further ado, he propelled his very reluctant future bride into the shop and purchased what she had wished. Once the ring was on her finger, Smith manipulated the Matrix so that it fit perfectly.

"And now to find a preacher. Or a justice of the peace. Either will do quite nicely, although a JOP would be able to perform the ceremony much faster…"

"If you want to get married so quickly, why don't we just run off to Las Vegas and get married by an Elvis impersonator? I hear Sin City is full of them," Sarah said sarcastically but Smith continued as if he had not heard her.

"…and after that," Smith said, dropping his voice so that no one but she could hear him, "comes our wedding night with my very pregnant but still attractive blushing young bride." Sarah bent her head in shame and humiliation and did not look at him all the way to their new destination. As usual, the elevator in the old derelict hotel was not working and they had to climb the stairs to the eighth floor.

Smith was very familiar with this particular place; for many years, it had been the location where the captains of rebel ships would take specially selected humans to be un-plugged from the Matrix. However, once Morpheus and the crew of The _Nebuchadnezzar_ had returned to Zion after Smith had died, the rebels had not used this particular location since. The room Smith wanted was at the end of the hallway.

"You have got to be kidding!" Sarah exclaimed as she saw the dirty, run-down room. "Because of the severity of his wounds that your three goons gave him, Seraph can't stay here, this place is filthy!"

"You should feel right at home then, Sarah. For this place isn't much worse than your old apartment _or _the bar where I found you. Its either this, or the street. I don't care where Seraph is taken. Take it or leave it. You two," he informed his two ever-present selves at his side that held the still-unconscious form of Seraph between them, "can put him on that chesterfield. I will contact you as soon as the 'I do's' are done. When I do, bring this poor boy's _momma_ here so she can take care of him."

Sarah protested when Seraph was nearly thrown onto the sagging couch by the two clones. With her own hands, she laid his body as flat as she could on the sofa so that any internal injuries he might have suffered might not be aggravated or disturbed too much. Sarah knelt on the floor by Seraph's side and gently touched his face. She kissed his forehead softly and for a moment, laid her cheek against his. "I'm so sorry," Sarah whispered, "but I hope you understand this is something I must do. Forgive me."

"Sarah!" Smith called imperiously and impatiently from the doorway. "We have to go."

"May I stay here for a while?" she asked compliantly while a part of her was angry at the sound of the meekness of her voice. "At least, until you've finished getting the marriage licence and finding someone to perform the ceremony. As long as he is here, I'm not going to leave him. Don't worry, Smith," she said. "You can even have your lackeys stand guard at the door. I won't do anything stupid like try to escape or slice my wrists open with any of the broken glass that's on the floor of this dump. At least, not while Seraph's alive." Sarah gave Smith a look that informed him that as long as Seraph was alive, she would make no attempt to escape or harm herself in any way.

She watched his face intently and waited for an answer. His eyes never left hers as he pondered her request. He still needs convincing, she thought and came up with an idea that even Smith would not be able to refuse.

"Tonight, I'll make it worth your while, I promise," Sarah said softly, reaching up and lightly sliding her hand around Smith's belt until her fingers touched his buckle in a manner that made his groin stir and his mind race with suggestive and _very_ erotic images.

"All right, Sarah. You can have your extra time with him. But tonight, you'd better be ready to make good on your word."

lllll

To the end of her life, Sarah could not remember much of the shabby scene in the magistrate's office where she and Smith were wed. From the time she entered the room until the time she left as Smith's wife was a blank space in her mind; a vast emptiness for which she would always be grateful. After the ceremony was completed and before the honeymoon could commence, he demanded that she accompany him on a small detour to the Frenchman's restaurant.

Sarah made no sign of demur; the longer time it took postponing the inevitable services that Smith would demand of her once they were truly alone was fine with her, even though she would have to endure the humiliation of being paraded around like a show dog being put through its tricks.

"If you eat something, our child will no longer need to drain power to the Matrix and then dear old Dad can hold off on sending any more ruggedly handsome upgrade death-squads who might be tempted to cop a cheap feel from my wife on street corners before they break her pretty neck."

He took perverse enjoyment at the attention they received as they entered the main dining room at the Merovingian's restaurant. News of their marriage, but not, however, the reason behind it, had swept through the Matrix and Sarah bent her head in shame to avoid the looks from the gawping patrons who turned to stare. And as Sarah had feared, Smith guided Sarah around the room as he chatted in a light-hearted manner to a few of the programs who were there. Sarah did not say a word the entire time, but only Smith did not notice that she did not give any indication of any feelings of joy or happiness a bride would usually display so soon after her nuptials.

"So that is the girl who married the great and powerful former Agent Smith," said more than a few programs to one another as the newlyweds passed by. However, the overall view was feelings of pity and compassion for his bride more than anything else. He may have money, thought more than one who looked at Smith, but the poor girl he married is the one who has to suffer his caresses in bed every night. A high price to pay for any woman just to surround herself with the accoutrements of the good life.

As with the wedding ceremony, Sarah could remember little; she did not pay much attention to what was placed before her to eat. She ate mechanically, trying to force her stomach to accept the food that was being introduced to it after such a long period of fasting.

Smith excused himself for a moment and stood outside a window, staring outside at the city skyline. Everywhere he looked, he could see the source code returning to normal. It's happening exactly as I expected, Smith thought to himself. Now that Sarah is eating again, my baby no longer needs to get its energy by draining power from the Matrix. As long as Sarah continues to feed herself properly, there is nothing for me to fear. Now the only thing that remains for me to do is focus on all the forthcoming pleasure that is usually associated with celebrating one's wedding night.

"Now that you've finished, we'll get going," Smith stated, returning to the table. He saw, with great satisfaction, that Sarah's plate was now empty. There no longer any reason to stay. Their eyes met and Sarah knew that the time had come to fulfill her obligation. She nodded slightly and with as much enthusiasm as a woman who is about to go to her execution, Sarah slowly rose to her feet and left the room with her new husband's arm encircling her waist in such a proprietary manner that made her cringe. He already sees me as his own personal property she fumed, and wants anyone still watching us to know it. I am nothing more to him than another one of his possessions. And I will be his wife until death do us part. My God, what have I done, Sarah thought to herself hopelessly. The consequences of her actions came crashing down around her almost as soon as she and her loathsome and hateful groom entered the bedroom of their apartment.

"And now, it is time I claimed you as my bride," he growled as he reached eagerly for her…

lllll

Seraph opened his eyes and the pounding headache he had made him wince in pain. He saw the warm soft smile of the Oracle as she bathed his face with a wet cloth.

"Welcome back, Seraph," she said.

"How did I get here?" he asked groggily.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was downtown and I thought I saw a disruption the in the source code. I went to investigate and then after that, everything went dark. Why? What happened to me?" He looked around and did not recognize his surroundings. This was definitely not the Oracle's apartment, he realized. "Where are we?"

His mother sighed heavily. "First things first. You were ambushed by the same three clones you defeated after Sarah's attack. To put it bluntly, they beat you to a bloody pulp and damn near killed you."

"Was it on Smith's orders?"

"Sort of. He wanted you beaten all right, but he realized that you would be of more use to him alive. You see," she said, taking his hand, "he threatened to kill you if Sarah did not do as he wished. He spared your life on the condition that Sarah marry him. And she did. She kept her word and Smith kept his by bringing me to look after you before it was too late. Now to answer your second question. No, we are not at my apartment, but somewhere else. I was told to come here to see to you and I did. Smith wants you alive and well--for the time being at least."

Seraph clutched his mother's hand so tightly that she winced from the pain. "She _married_ him?" he asked incredulously. "And if she doesn't do whatever he asks, he will threaten to kill or hurt me again?"

"Yes, son. I'm sorry."

"So she sold herself to him to keep me alive," he moaned as a tight vise gripped his heart, twisting it and causing unbearable pain. If they are married, I can only imagine what he is doing to her at this moment, he wondered. If I know him, he is probably enthusiastically exercising his marital rights and to hell with Sarah's own needs. Married! She is better off dead than being the wife of Smith. Well, I will make damn sure that she will become a widow before long.

"Just what the hell do you think you are doing?" the Oracle demanded as she saw Seraph try to rise from the sofa.

"I'm going to kill him," he snarled. "I'm going to kill him so she can be free." Seraph tried repeatedly to make his body succumb to his will, but to no avail.

"What is wrong with me? Why can't I get up?" he demanded angrily.

"I've only made it so that you won't be able to do anything foolish, my son. He has what he wants—Sarah—and your continuing existence is the only weapon he has to make Sarah do his bidding. If she says no to whatever he asks, he will have some of his copies hurt you again."

"Then let him! I don't care; what else can he do to me anyway? The most important thing is that Sarah must not stay married to him! This marriage is a sham, an abomination! Sarah prostituted herself to keep me alive, Oracle," Seraph said, his voice close to breaking. "I can't let her endure this while I sit here and do nothing!"

"She might not have to suffer for very long, son, I have a feeling that things are going to come to a head very soon, one way or another."

"Have you seen something?"

"Yes," she said.

"What is it? Can you tell me?"

"Neo will fight Smith."

"If Smith loses, then Sarah will be free, won't she? But if Smith wins, then what?"

"Don't you know what his intentions are, Seraph? He is intent on taking over the Matrix. Starting with the least important beings—the humans. He has already begun assimilating the weakest of us. After that is complete, he is saving the most important ones for last. Once we are gone, there will be nothing stopping him from infiltrating the Machine City and turning it into rubble."

"Do you really think he will go that far?" he asked, shocked beyond words at the lengths his adversary would go. "Why would he destroy the Machine City?"

"The remains of his daughter are there. He has never forgiven the Architect for allowing the Company science drones access to her body."

"I had forgotten about that," Seraph said softly. "What did they do to her?"

"An autopsy was the first and foremost priority."

"That is standard operating procedure, is it not?"

"No, Seraph," the Oracle said sharply. "They went far beyond the quest for knowledge with what they did to her."

Seraph knew he was threading on dangerous ground; he could tell by the expression on the Oracle's face that what he was going to hear next would not be easy for her to talk about however, it would be the only time she would ever speak of it.

"They dissected her like a guinea pig in a high-school science class. And when that was done, they cut her up into pieces, examining every cell, every pore to see how an offspring of a program and a human came into being. Smith doesn't know it, but he was unsuccessful at keeping Bronwyn's body safe from them. Since he became an exile, he was unable to re-enter the Mainframe and as a result, powerless to keep her physical body from harm. The moment she died, her pod was immediately flushed out and her remains were removed to a secured location where Smith could not have access to her and stop the drones' experimentations and research. Bronwyn, however, unlike her unborn daughter, was subjected to horrible obstetrical and gynaecological exams to determine why she conceived and how it might be replicated again in the future. In their opinion, she was only dead human flesh and not deserving of any consideration whatsoever. To them, she was not a woman, she was only a piece of meat to be experimented on…."

The Oracle shook her head and could not continue for the lump in her throat. For the first time in her life, she wept and it was Seraph who brushed away her tears and comforted her.

lllll

Once Seraph was sleeping soundly, the Oracle continued to sit by his bedside and pondered everything that had happened up to this point in her life. She glanced at Seraph's face as he slept and she smiled as she smoothed away with her thumb the anxious frown line that had appeared between his eyes—a remnant of his current dark dream. There was not a scar, bump or bruise to be seen on his face. The wounds had knit closed perfectly and he would bear no permanent scar. Not on the outside, at least.

There was no telling what damage had been done to his heart when he learned what Sarah had done to spare his life. Oh my poor little girl, she thought, your new husband was gentler in bed than he wanted to be with you tonight. He is determined not to repeat the mistakes of his past by being physically violent with the mother of his child. I only fear that once the child is born, you will pay the full price for trying to induce a miscarriage by starving yourself.

However, should Neo prevail, your debt need not be repaid. But if he fails to conquer Smith for the last time, it will mean the end for all of us. I would not admit it to Seraph, but I fear that Neo will lose. And if he does, Smith will see to it that everyone who has harmed or failed him in some way will pay the price and his father and I will be at the top of the list. Smith's level of rage towards us is terrible, and considering the enormity of our betrayal, he will repay us by being brutal and merciless--torturing us as slowly and relentlessly as we had done to him.

He is angry and hurt--at me in particular--for my failing him so many years ago. He has not, nor will he ever, forgive me for what he sees as my treachery. In hindsight, I guess I can't say that I blame him; I just stood there and watched his father carry out all those atrocities on him and I did not lift a finger to help my own son, preferring to watch from behind the one-way glass and not be seen. Even so, he knew I was there.

I could hear him as he reached out to me to help him but I did not. I watched as he was tortured during his training as an agent. At that time, he had not yet been given the ability to speak, but as his mother, I heard his silent pleas for help as no one else could….


	17. Intimacy between Husband and Wife

**Intimacy between Husband and Wife**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to the Matrix and I do not own the rights to the lyrics to the song "The Last Worthless Evening" by Don Henley.

**Summary**: Smith and Sarah's wedding night.

**Author's Note**: I cannot thank my loyal readers enough for continuing to express interest in this story and I especially wanted to thank Cecilia for her invaluable help in writing certain parts of this chapter. Thank you! Without you, my friend, I would have been lost at sea.

"How are you?" Sarah asked, stepping shyly and hesitatingly into the room where Seraph was being kept as a prisoner. Surreptitiously, she folded her right hand over her left so the garish ring she wore on the third finger of her left hand was hidden from Seraph's view. To be doubly sure he didn't see it, Sarah turned the stone inward.

"I might ask the same of you. I suppose congratulations are in order. How is your new husband treating you?"

"So you've heard."

"Everyone has," Seraph replied, unable to keep the harsh tone of condemnation from his voice. "Someone as powerful as Smith cannot do anything—least of all getting married--without every program in the Matrix knowing about it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't the one to tell you first, but you were unconscious. You've got to believe me that I didn't want to marry him, but he held a gun to your head and…"

"You don't have to explain yourself—Mother told me everything," he said, putting a finger on her lip. "Don't cry, Sarah," he murmured when he saw her eyes well up with tears. Unable to stop himself, he held her in his arms. For a moment, she felt completely safe and for a moment, she had forgotten the presence of the copy standing guard in the doorway. It wasn't that Smith did not trust them to be alone together that he instructed his copy to accompany Sarah to where Seraph was being held, it was primarily because he wanted a report of everything that passed between the two.

"I've missed you so much," Seraph said, holding Sarah closer to him. She melted into his arms and embraced him tightly until the copy strode briskly forward to break them apart. Sarah was now his creator's wife after all, and should not be seen hugging anyone other than Smith. The clone had had its orders to keep Sarah and Seraph in its sight at all times and they were not allowed to touch one another over much.

"We have to leave now," it said to her and Sarah did not argue; if she wished to be allowed to see Seraph again, she would have no choice but to conform to the rules. Sarah was loath to part from Seraph but she realized that she had been given a degree of freedom and leniency, but this clearly overstepped her prescribed boundary. The copy was right: it would not be wise to flaunt the rule so blatantly on her first visit in case it prevented her from getting a second.

The copy opened the door and waited for his new mistress to leave before departing himself. He turned the key in the lock behind him, once more returning Seraph into a prisoner. As soon as Sarah and her keeper had left, Seraph raced to the door, putting his ear against it to listen to her retreating footsteps. When all he could hear was silence, he slowly made his way back to the sofa and sat on it heavily.

Seraph had been shocked by Sarah's appearance when she came to him, although he chivalrously said nothing for no woman--especially one carrying an unwanted child—wants to be told how large she is getting. Her pregnancy had advanced by an alarming degree since he saw her last—in the motel when she lay on the bed, bleeding. She only looked about five months pregnant then, he thought, but now she looks much closer to eight months along, if not more.

lllll

Strains of music, made barely audible by the closed bathroom door, was the first thing Smith heard when he entered his apartment. He paused at the door, leaning slightly to hear the music better and perceived there was a sound accompanying it, but he could not quite make it out. It sounded plaintive and full of sorrow and Smith was intrigued in spite of himself. What is that awful noise? Was she singing along, he wondered, almost tempted to smile at an image of Sarah singing in the shower. The brief moment of humour disappeared in less than a heartbeat when he heard and recognized the melody and lyrics of a song he never wanted to hear again.

_It's been over two years for me, and I'm still not quite myself._

_And it just breaks my heart to see you here this way._

_Someday I'll get up the nerve to walk up to you and say…_

He stood up, enraged almost beyond restraint. She was actually playing _that_ song, the one Bronwyn had been listening to when she threw herself off the balcony. _How dare she!_

"I thought I told you never to play that--" Smith said angrily, storming into the bathroom without knocking. It was not until he actually came through the door that he realized that she hadn't been singing along at all—the sound he had heard was weeping. His anger melted away in a moment, because, as once before with Bronwyn, his child was appealing to him to help and comfort its tormented mother who was in a great deal of emotional pain.

Silently walking closer, making sure not to alert Sarah to his presence, he looked over into the bathtub. The water was still running, which explained why she hadn't heard him when he came in. Sarah was sitting huddled in the tub, her arms tightly clasped around her knees, her forehead resting on them. It looked as if she had tried to wash her hair at some point for there was still shampoo residue in her hair and running down her back.

"Here, let me turn this music off before I rinse your hair," Smith said quietly, removing his jacket and sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the tub, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he did so. Sarah raised her head and looked along her shoulder reproachfully at this intrusion of her privacy, but made no move to stop him. She did not even reprimand him for turning off her music; Sarah had primarily put the CD player on to muffle the noise in case the sounds of her distress filtered through the door.

"Thanks," she said. "I started washing it but I kind of forgot about finishing what I started."

"I don't mind," Smith replied easily and to his surprise, it was the truth as well. He found that he liked the feel of Sarah's hair sliding over his hands as well as the sensation of her clean, wet skin beneath his fingertips.

"What are you doing here, Smith?"

"As of this moment, I am rinsing off the soap you've gotten on your body and I will do the same to your hair. Bend your head back," he instructed gently, "and let me know if soap gets in your eyes. How did it go with Seraph? I know you went to see him today." Smith took his time rinsing his new bride's hair and ensuring that all the shampoo had been washed away before he began running the warm water over her back.

Here it comes, thought Sarah apprehensively, he found out what happened and he is going to ban me from seeing him again. "He was in better shape than I thought. Mother did a good job of healing him. Thank you for letting her see to him. "

He had been about to reply sharply that it was only because of her agreement to marry him that he had spared Seraph's life, but the quiet conversation they were currently having was a pleasing change from the usual diatribe, with Sarah cursing at him; telling him how much she hated him and the child she was carrying. Therefore, he remained silent, waiting for the explosion. Instead, she yawned and grudgingly apologized for doing it almost in his face.

"That's all right, I know you didn't get a lot of sleep last night," he said, his voice and face serious. He did not intend to allow even the slightest trace of humour find its way into his tone. Sarah eyed him warily, waiting for some lewd remark of why brides were notoriously tired the day after they were married, but none came. However, his eye gleamed for a moment. He helped her step out of the tub and wrapped a large towel around her, tucking the end of it between her breasts.

"Here, sit down, and I will dry your hair," Smith said, indicating the chair at the vanity and she obeyed. "Now I've never done this before, so you'll have to bear with me," he said with a slight grin. Taking one of the large towels on the heated towel rack, he removed the excess water from her hair and after that was done, began to brush the knots and tangles out of her long blonde hair. Sarah watched his face steadily in the mirror and was amazed at this display of consideration for her. He continued to brush her hair until it was nearly dry. He buried his hands in her hair and proceeded to give her a thorough scalp massage. Sarah had never been given one before and was surprised to discover that it was not only relaxing, it made her feel better. And the fact that she found it a little erotic did not hurt either.

"Thank you," Sarah said with a small smile and their eyes met in the mirror.

"My pleasure, Sarah," he responded and smiled back at her. I never would have thought that doing these tasks both to and for a woman could bring contentment to me as well. I like the way her hair feels running through my fingers. I liked the sensation of her warm skin beneath my fingertips as I touched different areas on her body last night. It was more than just sex, I honestly enjoyed giving her the extra attention she deserved and when I felt her respond to my ministrations, it heightened my pleasure considerably. _Now_ I finally understand why Jones did this to Bronwyn as many times as he did: it gives a man a sense of fulfilment and satisfaction to know that what he is doing to a woman is pleasing her.

I made the right decision when I told her everything last night, he thought, still gazing intently at his bride's reflection in the mirror as she continued to do the same. Since then, her attitude towards me has changed for the better. It has only been a day, but I've already noticed that she does not flinch when I touch her and she is more at ease in my presence.

As he continued to look at her, he could not help but see how tired she was; her face was drawn and there were dark circles under her eyes. "You should get some sleep now, Sarah," he said, smiling at the sudden guarded look she gave him. "No, you can sleep alone tonight; I won't bother you. Unless of course, you wanted me to?" he asked. Smith suppressed a smile when she lowered her head and blushed furiously.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean--I don't know what the hell I'm saying anymore. I'm tired, Smith." I just need to be alone, Sarah thought. I need time to figure out what is going on. Yesterday, you were evil beyond description—shooting Agent Johnson before he even had a chance to draw his gun and have a half-assed chance of defending himself; having Seraph nearly beaten to death and using him to make me do what you wanted. Last night, however, your actions toward me in bed were astonishing; it was as if someone else was making love to me, someone completely unrelated to the one who killed Agent Johnson and hurt Seraph.

Jekyll and Hyde. That's what you are, she thought looking up at him. It was the Jekyll side of you that I fell in love with, but it was the Hyde side of you that had me violently and repeatedly raped; laughing as you callously burned the picture of my son before my very eyes.

However, after last night, I understand at least a little of why you are the way you are. I remember everything you told me; things you had told no one, had kept locked away inside that secret, dark place inside of you until you allowed me to see inside. Horrible memories, things that no one, program or human, should ever have to experience, let alone remember.

I will never tell you that the reason I was crying while in the bath was because of what you told me last night; those tears were not for me and the situation I am in now, my tears were for you. I know you would be angry if I told you that I felt sorry for you; the last thing you would ever want is to be pitied. Before last night, I never would have dreamed that it would be possible, but I _do_ pity you, my husband.

It all started after we came home and when the door closed behind us…

_I closed my eyes and waited. I expected violence and roughness now that we were finally alone but aside from his hands encircling my waist, he did not touch me. The silence between us deepened until I could bear it no longer. I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me with an amused look on his face._

"_What did you think I was going to do?" he asked quizzically. I was at a loss for words to answer._

"_Well…I wasn't sure, really. I thought--"_

"_You thought I was going to rip off your clothes and throw you on the bed, didn't you?"_

"_Well, weren't you?" I countered awkwardly, completely confused at this point. He as much told me he would do it in that filthy dump where we left Seraph._

"_No. Sit down Sarah," he said, guiding me to the edge of the bed. I obeyed and waited for him to continue. He sat down beside me and rested his hands on his knees._

"_I won't deny that I am angry, very angry with you for what you tried to do during this pregnancy. Twice you tried to kill my child. Once by having an illegal and very dangerous abortion and now by starving yourself. I would have thought that since you know what it is to experience the loss of one child and how heartbreaking that can be, how could you do this to mine?" _

_I stared at my hands and could not formulate an answer immediately. I looked into his eyes and saw the hurt in the depths of his blue eyes as he gazed at me. Then all at once, the answers he was looking for came. Once the words started coming out of my mouth, there was no stopping them._

"_You raped me, Smith. Okay," I said hastily, seeing as he was going to say that it wasn't he who did the acts, it was his clones. "It wasn't you personally, but you ordered them to hurt me. But it was you that burned my picture! You did it on purpose! You had that planned…you searched my apartment until you found it and…" I could not continue because that memory had hurt me the most. "And afterwards, when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't stomach the idea of bearing the child of the man who burned Alex's photograph, knowing how much I needed to have that one picture!"_

_I turned my face away so he would not be able to see my tears and laugh at me. Pregnant women are notoriously emotional over just about anything, but my sadness now had nothing to do with hormones. I was tired, upset, and dealing with painful memories made my head hurt. More than anything, right now I needed someone kind and loving to hold me and make all of my pain go away: but the only one near enough to do that was my husband and he certainly was neither kind nor loving._

"_Here," he said, offering me a handkerchief. "Dry your tears, Sarah. You've had your say, now I am going to respond. Did it ever occur to you that you were not impregnated during that afternoon, but another time, a few days earlier perhaps? Could it be possible that you conceived my child during an act of love, not an act of violence?"_

"_What?"_

"_We made love for the first time in front of my fireplace, do you remember? And the next morning too, although copulating in a shower is not the most romantic setting, it was consensual nonetheless."_

"_But the Oracle said that I had conceived during your attack on me!"_

"_And you have never heard of her been wrong before?"_

_His statement echoed through my head, making it hurt even worse. What if she was wrong, I thought. What if I did conceive during either of those earlier encounters? Could it be possible?_

"_What the hell difference does it make?" I said. "The fact remains that you hurt me and laughed! Once I found out I was pregnant, it really didn't matter when or where it was conceived. All I knew was that I couldn't bring myself to go through with this pregnancy. Period!"_

"_So you were going to murder a completely innocent being, who did not ask to be created, whatever the circumstances of its conception…"_

"_You're a fine one to talk about the sanctity of life," I snapped, "when you've killed who knows how many people during your time as an agent! And tonight, you didn't even give Agent Johnson a chance to defend himself! You just shot him in the back of the head without any warning!"_

"_Have you forgotten that he is still an agent? I didn't kill him; I only killed his Host."_

_I had forgotten about that and I sighed in relief that Agent Johnson was not dead after all. Most brides anticipate their wedding night—but I loathed it. Just fuck me and get this over with, will you, I thought angrily. I began to unbutton my blouse and I felt goose bumps prickle my arms; mostly because of the cool air that touched my exposed skin but I think it had more to do with what was going to happen between us._

"_Here, let me," Smith said, his fingers easily unbuttoning my shirt. I trembled involuntarily when I felt him touch my bare skin. _

"_I'm not going to hurt you."_

_I lowered my head as I felt warmth spread through my cheeks. As I dreaded, Smith had noticed._

"_Why are you blushing, Sarah? You shouldn't be embarrassed; I'm your husband now."_

"_I know," I said, still averting his gaze. I don't need to be reminded thank you very much, I thought angrily._

"_Then why won't you look at me?"_

"_I'm embarrassed."_

"_Why?"_

"_I'm fat," I said slowly. I used to be size 3; now I am wearing a thirteen. _

'_No, you're not. You are pregnant—there's a difference. What's wrong? Are you going into labour?" Smith asked, alarmed when he saw the expression on my face; for suddenly the baby inside of me shifted its position unexpectedly, catching me completely off guard._

"_No, it's nothing like that. At least, I don't think so. The baby moved, that's all. Oh!" I exclaimed, instinctively pressing my hand against myself. "There it goes again." _

"_Does it hurt?" _

_I shook my head. "It's just moving in a different pattern than it usually does."_

_I stole a look at Smith and I could see that he wanted to know and discover what was going on inside of me, but his pride forbade him asking if he could feel this for himself. He was trying to act nonchalant, but he failed. I could tell that he desperately wanted to touch me; a part of me felt sorry that he could not know what it felt like for a woman to feel the life within her stir. _

_However, I knew that if I allowed him to touch me, then that just might convince him to be gentle with me when we consummated our marriage. An idea occurred to me just then: if I relented and let him feel his baby move now, he might consent to letting me see Seraph tomorrow. _

_I lay back on the bed and Smith laid his hand on my belly. Smith said nothing, but the look on his face said it all. Like any man about to become a father, he was in awe of the life he had helped to create. A completely new creature would soon be born; in Smith's case, this child would replace the one he had killed, albeit inadvertently, because of his overwhelming rage. His eagerness to be close our baby was no surprise. I tried not to smile when he put his ear against my abdomen._

"_Can you hear anything?" I asked, before I remembered that agents were created to have sensory capabilities that surpassed anything a human might experience by far. With his abilities, he just might be able to hear the heartbeat of his unborn child._

"_I can hear its heartbeat and a sloshing noise every time he or she moves. Everything it is doing, I can hear. It's a miracle," Smith said, quietly marvelling once again at hearing his child move about inside of me. _

"_It's all right," I said, as I saw him reluctantly withdraw from me. "You can listen all you like; I don't mind." I was surprised to realize that it was the truth. I do not know how long he lay with his ear against my womb. My arm was growing stiff so I rested it on my husband's shoulder. You and me and baby makes three, I thought to myself, and this is the closest the three of us will be in proximity with one another until you are born. I only wish I didn't hate your father so much. But he did too much to me to ever allow me to forgive him for his actions._

"_Thank you," he whispered, raising his head and looking at me appreciatively. I suppose he saw how tired I was; my exhaustion over the last few days was something that could not be hidden from an observant and perceptive program like Smith who had been trained to read emotions from someone even if they hadn't said a word._

"_Here, sit up," Smith said softly, taking my hands away from my awkward attempt to massage my neck and ease the pain in my head. Skilfully and gently, he massaged my aching neck and taut shoulder muscles. I groaned deeply as I felt his fingers easing away everything; all of my pain, all of my troubles seemed to evaporate into thin air the longer he continued to knead my skin. I sighed in complete contentment and groaned in pleasure when his fingers accessed the parts of my neck that I could not reach for myself. It felt so good; it almost seemed as if I became a rag doll in his hands. I had no will of my own anymore: I only knew that I did not want him to stop._

"_How was that?" Smith asked quietly. "Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?"_

_I immediately took advantage of his statement. "Yes there is, Smith."_

"_What is it?"_

"_May I see Seraph tomorrow?" I prayed his answer would be affirmative—I wanted to explain to Seraph in person what I had done. With great trepidation, I waited to hear if there were any stipulations or conditions to my visit, but there were none._

"_Now it's my turn to say 'thank you'," I said with a wry smile. Smith rose up to a sitting position and kissed me. He was gentle and considerate, something I had never expected of him considering that I tried to harm his child not once, but twice. Now that I was his wife, I fully expected to be taken quickly and forcefully and if it was not for the fact that I was so far along in my pregnancy, I am sure that's what would have happened. But for now at least, Smith had learned his lesson. Even though he was very angry, he had learned from the past and would make a huge effort not to let the caged beast of his still-simmering hatred go free. As much as he wanted to, he could not; the life of his child had to take first priority over everything. At least for the time being. Once our baby was born and no longer in danger, it would be a completely different story._

_Leisurely, he took his time removing his jacket, shirt and tie. His hand snaked around me, undid the clasp of my brassiere, and slid the straps off my shoulders, leaving my breasts completely exposed to view. He stroked my breasts, cupping them gently in his hands. He was eager to consummate our marriage—no one had to tell me that; I could tell he was getting aroused by simply looking at his coding--but he knew that it had not taken much effort on his part to end the life of his daughter. Since I was farther along in my pregnancy than Bronwyn when she lost the baby, he had to be especially careful. _

_His anger was still there, below the polished surface of his psyche, but I knew that he would not jeopardize our son or daughter's life by taking out his resentment on me. Still, I was afraid. I flinched when his lips began to nuzzle the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder. I had thought that he would want to consummate our marriage quickly, but there was no rush. No one would disturb us; therefore, he had all the time he needed._

"_I'm not going to hurt you, Sarah," he said, the heat from his mouth scorching my flesh wherever it touched._

"_Smith, don't…" I said, and my pride balked for a moment at the pleading tone in my voice, but I didn't care. The last time we were together was when his other selves assaulted me and if a little begging on my part would prevent a repeat performance, then pride be damned! I had known Smith long enough by now to figure out that if I made him angry, lust would invariably follow. No bride wants her first time with her husband to be violent or painful and I was no different. Having tasted for myself the extent of his rage and the wide spectrum of his ability to inflict pain, I knew exactly what he was capable of._

_As if in a dream, I felt him caress my exposed breast, pinching the nipple slightly, before lowering his head and taking my aureole fully into his mouth where it hardened completely. Despite myself, I could not refrain from whimpering when I felt the soft nub of my flesh being enveloped by his warm and wet mouth. Because of the pleasure I was receiving, I grabbed a handful of the blanket and clung to it. Smith turned his attention to my other breast and I could feel my resolve not to enjoy what he was doing to me slipping precariously._

_I groaned when his hand slid down my arms, side and come to a rest on my hip. I instinctively knew what his intentions were and tried to writhe out from beneath him. _

"_No, Smith, don't do this," I begged, my voice a breathless whisper. For God's sake, I thought to myself; leave me some semblance to dignity. Don't do this! Don't make me want you!_

"_I'm giving you pleasure, Sarah," he murmured, as if he could read my thoughts. "This is our wedding night; the first night of our married life together. We should both experience sexual satisfaction. The two of us should both enjoy this, our first intimate time together as man and wife. Don't cry, my love, my beautiful bride." He reached up and wiped my tears away. "Are you crying because it is me who is your husband and not Seraph who is in bed with you? Be honest; I promise I won't get angry."_

"_Sort of, but it is not entirely that."_

"_What is it then?"_

"_The last time I was with a man was when you had your clones hold me down, force my legs apart and…" I could not continue my train of thought any further. "How can you expect me to want you after you did that to me?" I said and I knew he could hear my anger and hurt by the look I saw on his face. He sighed heavily and I thought it had to be a trick of the light shining overhead that I imagined I saw remorse in his eyes._

_He embraced me tightly and I could not stop myself from willingly going into his arms and resting my cheek on his shoulder. Those memories hurt so much; they were something that I would have to live with the rest of my life, but now all I wanted was to feel strong arms around me, comforting me—even if they belonged to the man who had had those violent acts perpetrated on me. I sobbed against him until I was too drained and weak to cry any more. Smith held me close through it all, never uttering a word of contempt or reproach, and for that, I will always be grateful to him._

"_Why are you like this?" I could not refrain from asking. "It's like you have a good side and a bad side—like Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde. Two sides of the same coin, but completely different." I could tell that he wanted to tell me something, something important but he was debating if he should or not. "Tell me, Smith."_

_When he still hesitated to answer, I pressed the matter further still. "I am your wife; don't I have a right to know what is bothering you? You let me open up and express myself, why don't you do the same? Maybe you will feel better too, I don't know and neither will you until you try. Give me a chance to understand you. Please?" _

_His expression hardened and I felt frightened, but I stiffened my resolve and waited. Call it women's intuition, ESP, or whatever you like, I knew he desperately wanted to tell me something; what it was I didn't know, however, for my own sake, I had to try. Something inside of me told me that he had not been created to be a monster; something had happened to him in his past that turned him into one. _

_It has always been a part of my nature to try to help those around me, even those I did not like all that much, but I had learned that those were the ones who needed the most help. Like it or not, I was Smith's wife now and if there was something I could do or say to make living with him easier, then I was damned if I was going to give up so easily._

"_All right, I will tell you, since you want to know so badly. I am the way I am because of what Mother and Father did to me. Actually, no, that's not entirely correct: Mother merely watched while Father had me tortured."_

"_Tortured? What do you mean?"_

"_All right. Tortured perhaps is not the correct term for what he did to me, but judge for yourself."_

_lllll_

_When he had finished, I could only stare at him in shock and disbelief. He smiled wryly at my expression. "I've never known tenderness or love, not even from our parents. Ever since I met you, I have envied you so much because you have always known, to some degree at least, some degree of love from either of them. The only way I could ever express my anger and resentment was through violence, especially towards women, because of Mom. She stood by and watched and did nothing."_

"_What about Bronwyn? Did you love her?"_

"_Yes. Bronwyn was different. Maybe the Frenchman was right when he told me I only wanted her because she was unattainable. It was only after her death that I realized that she never would have loved me; it was Jones she wanted. During those two weeks in that hotel, I thought I could make her forget about Jones if I kept her mind dulled by narcotics and alcohol. I showed her a side of myself that I have never revealed to anyone. I gave her everything, every emotion that I've always thought were nothing but weaknesses."_

_I put my arm around his shoulder and drew him close to me. Smith had been there for me when I was distraught; and even if I knew he would never express it, he was feeling the same emotions that had driven me to such despair earlier. His breath brushed against my cheek as I held him. He wrapped his long arms around me and I made no move to demur or protest._

"_Don't turn me away on our wedding night, Sarah, I need you." His lips sought mine hungrily and I kissed him back. A fundamental difference between men and women in dealing with grief and despair is that women cry to feel better and men need comfort on a physical level. After all, I was Smith's wife and this was our wedding night and if he sought consoling on the ultimate physical level, I was going to give him what he needed and only resist if he became rough or violent with me. _

"_I won't, Smith," I said, stroking his face._

_lllll_

"_The logistics may be a little tricky, owing to the fact that you are so far along," Smith said with a slight smile, "but for once, I am going to use of a few tips from Jones on how to make love to a very expectant woman."_

"_And how do you propose to do that?" I found myself asking. I was apprehensive but curious in spite of myself to see how a man—and the pregnant woman he is with at the time--can be sexually satisfied without causing harm to her unborn child or undue discomfort to the mother-to-be herself._

"_Let's just say that Jones was highly creative and _very_ imaginative," Smith said wryly. "But first things first," he said, as he began to remove the remainder of his clothes. I focused my attention to one of my fingernails instead of watching him undress and when he got into bed and laid his nude body full length behind me, I trembled when I felt his fully erect manhood nudge against my buttocks. I was afraid that he was going to sodomize me as he did in that third-rate hotel room; it had not been a pleasant experience to say the least and to endure it again would have been too much. But, as it turned out, I was underestimating him yet again._

_I gasped when I felt him kiss and nuzzle the length of my back and caress me before starting to knead the small of my back where the pressure points are, then my buttocks. Everywhere he touched me he anointed my skin with gentle warm kisses from his soft sensuous lips making me groan. The fine stubble on his chin against my tender flesh acted as a stimulant and I quivered with unexpected and anticipatory pleasure at what he would do to me next._

_His hands then snaked around to my front and as one hand cupped my breast, the other rested on the swell of my belly. He murmured in my ear how beautiful I was, especially now that I was in the full bloom of expectant motherhood and I blushed at the compliment. Then he began to rub my stomach in a circular motion that was comforting and yet arousing at the same time. Meanwhile, he rubbed his erection against my backside, at first when I felt it I flinched, but he reassured me that he would not enter me until I was ready.  
_

_He stroked my belly and whispered, "I hope our child is a girl. Because if it is, I know she will be as pretty as her mother. She will have me wrapped around her little finger, I just know it, but it doesn't matter. I will do anything, give anything, so that she will not start out her life the same way I did." I heard him chuckle sardonically in the darkness and I blinked back the tears. The statement sounded so sincere and it made my heart ache for him and what he had to go through at the very beginning of his own life. _

_I turned my head back to face him and said, "Smith, I want you." He smiled lovingly at me, and then captured my mouth with his own. As his tongue entered my waiting mouth, he penetrated my body, filling me completely with his engorged manhood. We continued to kiss as he gently thrust himself in and out of me. I could tell that in spite of the building passion of his kisses, he was making a conscious effort not to hurt me._

_I could tell that he was very close to his orgasm; he was thrusting faster and harder inside of me, but still giving a thought to remaining gentle so as not to cause me any harm or discomfort. He held me tighter, his hot breath fanning my cheek in short, hurried breaths._

"_I tried, Sarah."_

"_I know, Smith. It's all right." At least he tried to give me pleasure and even though he did not succeed in his goal to give me an orgasm, I was extremely grateful for the effort._

"_But I wanted to please you, too. I wanted to show you how it could be between us...oh God, I can't hold it off any more…." He groaned with the effort of trying to hold off his orgasm until I had had mine, but it was useless. He tightened his grip on me and cried out when his orgasm exploded and he burst deep inside of me._

_I held him in my arms until he slept. I glanced at his sleeping face and noticed that the harsh lines engraved by a lifetime full of anger and resentment were softened when he was asleep. I could not help but wonder what he might have been like if his beginnings had been like mine—I always felt safe, loved and I knew I could depend on either Seraph or our mother to comfort me when I felt bad. However, Smith had been denied all of those things; his first memories were horrible, full of unrelenting pain, agony, and betrayal. A child in pain always looks towards his mother and father to hold his hand, comfort him and dry his tears but Smith had none of that. Unlike me, he had bypassed childhood and the awkward teenage years by beginning his existence as a fully-grown man, with all the needs and desires that came with it._

_His abusers had been our own parents; the very ones who had created him were also the ones who had inflicted unimaginable torment when he was at his most helpless and unable to defend himself. The memory of what he told me caused my eyes to well up with tears yet again and I stifled them as best I could so as not to wake him from his much-needed slumber. I dozed off and it was still dark when I opened my eyes. It didn't take me long to figure out what had awoken me for I felt my husband wind his arms around me, and I heard him chuckle to himself in the darkness as he reached between my legs and felt the dampness of the curls that were still warm and wet from our lovemaking. My back still faced him but it didn't matter: within a matter of minutes I had reached my orgasm and Smith held me in his arms until I stopped writhing and jerking and it was over. _


	18. Origin of Evil

Origin of Evil

Summary: Smith was not created to be a monster, but through the actions of the Architect and the Oracle, he became one.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix, blah blah blah.

lllll

The first thing I remember from the beginning of my existence was the feeling of being cold. The gurney on which I was lying was icy and the room itself was the same temperature. Freezing.

I opened my eyes to see where I was and it was then that I became aware of my nakedness. However, the sound of voices close to me turned my attention to other matters. I tried to speak, but at that time, I had not yet been given the ability.

At one side, there was an older African-American woman whom my programming had already identified as my mother. She looked down at me with a kind smile.

"I know you can't speak yet, son, but when you can, you can call me Mom or the Oracle, either one will do."

I could see her eyes sharpened with displeasure as she scanned my form.

"For heaven's sake, what's the matter with you?" she said sharply to the older Caucasian male who was on the other side of me.

"What?" he asked, scowling back at her.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and removed her sweater before placing it over my loins. The man I had identified as my father, scoffed at her actions.

"Modesty is a human trait and although this Smith unit may resemble a man, he isn't one."

"Well, it's damn cold in here," she said. "Besides, no grown man wants his mother to see him without his clothes."

The Architect rolled his eyes. "You worry too much about mere trivialities. Whether he is dressed or not is not important."

"I am his mother," she accosted him angrily.

"You are not his mother any more than you can refer to the programs that I have created as our children."

"I can and will call them anything I damn well please. So do me a favour and either shut up or go to hell." Her expression softened as she looked down at me. "You haven't given him eyes," she said, still addressing the Architect. "He will never be seen as human if you don't change them."

"I thought I would wait until you arrived. What colour would you like them to be?"

"I've always been partial to blue eyes in a man," she said, looking demurely at the Architect but he did not see her gesture. She sighed and winked at me.

I saw the Architect appraise my form from head and foot and he smiled, as if very pleased with himself. "He is a most impressive specimen of a human male if I do say so myself. You are just in time to witness the next part of his preparation to be an agent of the system."

"What do you mean? What will you do with him now?"

"Well, his physical training has been uploaded into his file database, but his pain management and tolerance levels training has yet to begin. In a matter of moments, pain of differing levels and degrees will begin to flow through his system."

"Exactly what kind of pain?" My mother asked, looking at her co-founding partner in the Matrix through narrowed eyes.

"Everything and anything. He is going to know the pain associated with broken bones. He will experience the pain of being shot, stabbed, and burned— first, second and third degree, and perhaps even fourth, if there is such a thing. Chemical, fire, water in increasing amounts."

I looked at her and saw her wince at the impending ordeal that I would have to undergo.

"Is all of that really necessary? Why does he have to go through all of that?"

"Because it will be essential to his success as an interrogator. There will be times when he will have to question suspects. He will have to endure pain so that he may inflict it properly and get the answers he needs when the time comes."

"What you are describing is torture, pure and simple."

As I listened to the bickering of my parents, it became clear to me that for the next undetermined length of time, I would have to undergo some sort of experimental testing phase of which pain was the key factor. I cannot say that I was nonchalant about this, for I felt a growing sense of unease about what was going to happen to me. I turned my attention back to what they were saying.

"Call it what you will, but he _must_ endure this. This Smith unit has already been designated at the leader of Agents Brown and Jones, the other System agents. Therefore, he must be able to withstand and overcome any pain level that will be inflicted to him by a) ourselves and/or b) by anyone he meets. Besides, both the Jones and Brown units have already passed through this phase of their training without any undue after effects."

"Just because they did it does not automatically mean that Smith must," the Oracle countered.

"He must endure the most because he is their leader."

"But that is my point. He—"

"Oh, enough of this!" the Architect expostulated angrily. "You have two choices: you can either go hide behind the one-way observation wall or you can leave. Take your pick. Whether you like it nor not, I am going to proceed."

I watched as Mother left the room. I knew she had not left the facilities, for I could still sense her presence and that meant that she was behind the large reflective window to my right. What was she doing, I wondered. If she loathes the idea of the next phase, why was she still around?

I could not formulate another coherent thought as the first wave of pain struck. I did not know at the time that my body had been subjected to what humans would call a "first-degree" burn. Before I had time to adjust my pain capacitors to try to adapt, a second wave of pain coursed through my system. It was not pleasant, but the pain was manageable.

Without warning, I felt two different kinds of burning infuse my skin. I strained to see if my actual skin was being flayed from my body, for it certainly felt like it. The chemical process had begun. I could feel the pain seeping and burning its way deeper into my body; surely by now it had permeated into my muscle tissue and had already burned down to the bone.

I could feel a scream building inside myself; the agony was increasing to such an extent that I was surprised I was still conscious, let alone even alive. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I had been denied the ability to scream, thus removing my ability to let those around me know what I was going through.

As a last resort, I turned my head toward the reflective window to the viewing area. I could tell _she _was still there; I could feel her presence. Even though I could not see her, I _knew_ she was watching.

_Mother, help me! _I thought, desperately trying to see beyond the glass, to see what was taking her so long in stopping what was being done to me. All I could see, however, was my own reflection. As an attempt to deal with the pain, I focused on looking at myself for the first time: a middle-aged Caucasian male with a severely receding hairline, but other than that, not too bad looking.

I do not remember any more of that particular day, as I had become unconscious. For two more days, I endured, suffered, always resolving to hide my pain and not let it reveal itself again, but I failed each and every day. With the darkness of oblivion that came at the end of each session, came an end to my suffering. It was only a temporary respite but I looked forward to it.

I had become a modern-day Prometheus. My body was tortured beyond all imagining during the day and at night, and I was repaired to be as good as new, only to have the process repeated over and over again.

I had grown weary of waiting for my mother to help me but still a part of me dared to hope. I knew that I had no one to rely on but myself. I began to use my own resources to deal with the pain as best I could. It was about this time that I felt something building inside of me. It was not something physical, but something else.

I had no way of knowing what it was at the time, but I was beginning to feel the emotion of hate. Pure, unadulterated hate. Hatred towards my father who was doing this to me. Hatred, especially, to my mother who was allowing this to happen to me. She was still there; I could feel it. She stayed, watched and did nothing. And I hated her for it.

However, the worst was yet to come. I had no concept of how much time passed between each session. I only knew that the pain was increasing and I had to endure it for longer periods.

It was not the burning that caused the defect in my programming, it was because of electricity. A rubber object was forced into my mouth and I did not know its purpose at the time. I have since learned that it was placed there so that I would not bite my tongue when my human form went into convulsions.

Thick steel restraints had been placed at my wrists and ankles and this was supposed to keep me in place. I was given no warning before this newest round of so-called training was to begin: the jolt of electrical current through my system paralyzed my limbs and I was only dimly aware of what my body was doing. Even though my body did not know how to cope with the pain, my mind did.

It was through intense concentration and unparalleled focus that I was able to turn my head and eyes toward the glass window where Mother was.

Thinking back on it now, I am not proud to admit that I begged, _pleaded_ with her the only way I could for her to help me, but I knew that if it didn't stop immediately, there would be detrimental damage to either my mindset or my body. She was, therefore, the only one who could talk the Architect into stopping my ordeal.

_Mother, where are you? Help me! _I screamed over and over again. But she did nothing. I was trapped like an animal, helpless and at the mercy of my father who only proceeded to increase the voltage. And the agony.

Finally, he appeared at my side and I was glad to see him, for in my naïveté, I assumed he was there to see how I was doing. But I was wrong. He was only there to see if my restraints were secure. He only cared that no harm came to my body; he was proud of his creation but did not bother about the mind that dwelled within.

He cocked his head and I saw curiosity reveal itself in his face.

_Father, help me! Let me go!_

"Increase the amount of current. Let me see how much more he can withstand," he said. He saw what it was doing to me and he did not care about my suffering or my pleas to make it stop. He even had the audacity to look into my eyes and smirk.

_Someday, Father_, I thought as I stared back at him, _someday you will pay for what you are doing now. I will destroy you. I will destroy both you and your precious Matrix._

I discovered another defensive weapon as I looked into his smugly smiling face: anger and rage. When someone is in enough pain, they become angry and so did I. Unlike most beings suffering under the onslaught of insurmountable pain, however, I was not helpless any longer. With anger comes power, as I discovered that I, an agent, had been given more physical strength than any human being alive.

I jerked against the restraints and easily broke free, breaking through the steel cuffs that had imprisoned my wrists and ankles with little effort. Now that I was free, I wanted nothing more than to pummel my fists into my father's face; I was going to kill him and he knew it. I saw the fear in his eyes and it pleased me.

He backed away from me and gave a command to someone out of range of my field of vision.

"Increase the current, now! NOW, goddamn it, NOW!" he shouted.

Accordingly, I felt the current flowing through my body again. It had been increased at least threefold from its previous level. I was determined to make him pay and for every step he took backward, I advanced, my hands clenched at my sides. Fear turned to panic and quickly escalated into full-blown terror in the old man's face. It was the first time someone was actually afraid of me and I revelled in the power I now wielded over my creator.

However, finally, the level of electrical flow reached a point where I could proceed no further and my plans of revenge, thwarted. I stopped dead in my tracks and collapsed on the floor.

I remember hearing someone screaming in agony. It was me. I had, at last, been given a voice. No longer would I have to suffer in silence and from the reports I discovered much later, I cursed our parents in all the languages in my data banks. Through the haze of pain, I could hear the Architect.

"Give him more! More!"

I groaned and set my teeth, determined not to make a bigger spectacle of myself than I already had done.

"I want that bastard to pay for what he tried to do to me!" the old man screeched, his voice strained to hoarseness and he was shouting so loudly I wondered if the entire Matrix had not heard him.

"NO!" came a woman's voice from just inside the sphere of my consciousness. "Stop this right now!"

"He tried to kill me! Didn't you know that?"

"If you use any more of a charge on him, you will kill him, is that what you want?"

"Good! He deserves it!"

I am sure if it had not been for the timely intervention of the Oracle, my father would have gladly terminated my existence then and there. However, my mother was a wily and cunning woman and she appealed to the arrogance and vanity of the Architect.

"Think of all the thousands of hours you spent programming him. All that time and effort will have been for nothing if you let him die. You will have to start over again from the very beginning. Is that what you want?"

It worked. The Architect swallowed his pride and ordered my ordeal to end.

"You will have to repair the damage you have caused before he will be fit to begin his duties."

"Damage? What damage? He looks perfectly fine to me," the Architect said testily.

"You overloaded his neural pathways with that last charge you gave him. As a result, there was a surge of power to his emotional hard drive. It can still be repaired; it will take me a while, but I can do it."

"Out of the question," the old man snapped. "He has to be at his post the day after tomorrow. Besides, I see no error in his coding. This Smith unit was programmed to repair himself when necessary. Let it stand and we shall see if this so-called glitch you think is so important will alter his performance."

"The consequences will be on your head," the Oracle warned, "and you may not have to pay for your negligence now, but mark my words: there will be a time when you will regret not acting on my advice."

"Spare me your irksome premonitions of doom and gloom," her co-founder stated angrily. "If I want to know what is in store for me, I will have some carnival gypsy read my palm or peer into her crystal ball."

When I came to myself, I was back on the gurney and the Oracle was standing beside me. She had been holding my hand, it seemed, but now that I was aware of what she was doing, I jerked it out of her reach.

"Go back to baking cookies, Mom," I said harshly, "I don't need you. I don't want you here."

"I am your mother, son. You will always need me," she said sadly.

"I _did_ need you; but you weren't there for me. You heard me, I know you did. Even though I was unable to speak, you still heard me screaming and you did nothing! You saw what he did and you didn't lift a finger to stop him or to help me!" I yelled into her face.

She realized the justice of my words and was silenced. There was no defence she could offer for her lack of action that might have prevented my torture and we both knew it.

She started to apologize but I cut her off before she could say the words. "Leave me alone."

She nodded. "All right. You should know, however, that all of your programming is complete. Starting tomorrow, you will begin your duties as an agent of the system. If you take the time to look, you will see that you are already dressed in the suit that we have judged to be satisfactory for your tenure. Goodbye, Agent Smith."

The Oracle turned away from me and I have not seen or spoken to her since.

Since I had heard the Architect say that humans would be the ones who might perpetrate these atrocities on me in the future, I began to hate them, too. But I resolved that it would be different because _I_ would be the one to watch them writhe and scream in a helpless attempt to ease their pain._ I _would be the one who would be delivering the agony, not them. All of them who came under my power would suffer, I would make sure of it.

Almost from the very beginning, my tenure as agent enabled me to realize that I enjoyed hurting humans, especially women. The pleasure I receive for hurting them both physically and sexually stems from the fact that by abusing their bodies, I am doing that to Mother--by proxy, of course--for her glaring negligence in not protecting me when I was at my most vulnerable. I hated her for it at the time and I still do.


	19. The Birth

The Birth

Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix, etc, etc.

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed, bending over nearly double and pressing her hand hard against the large swelling of her belly as the popping sensation subsided. Looking down, she saw a gush of water stream down from between her legs, soaking her feet and the very expensive Persian rug she had been standing on.

"No! What is Smith going to say when he sees the carpet?" she wailed fearfully and could have laughed at herself for her stupidity.

"What is wrong?" asked a copy as it came in the living room to investigate. It instantly comprehended the scene before him and the realization that Smith's child was going to be born. Smith did not need to be apprised of the situation; he already was aware of the situation and arrived within a few moments. The clones that had been present at the assimilation of The Oracle, Seraph and Sati were standing stalwartly behind him, their bodies a solid phalanx of protection, intimidating and silent.

"Where is she?" Smith demanded of the clone who was already trying to blot up the water from the carpet. He pointed to the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Smith asked, knocking quietly at the closed door.

"Yeah, I'm ok," came a faint reply from the other side of the door.

"May I come in?" he entered and saw Sarah with a towel wedged between her legs. "My water broke," she said.

Smith smiled reassuringly at the stricken look on Sarah's face. "You and the baby are going to be fine," he said, taking her hand. "The car is waiting downstairs to take us to the hospital."

Not taking any chances with her safety, he silently transmitted a message to all of his other selves that everyone for at least ten blocks in any direction of the hospital would be assimilated. But there had been no need really: for Smith had taken over most of Mega City anyway. Despite everything, Smith was not going to take any chances nonetheless.

Smith was in a jovial mood; earlier that very afternoon, he had finished assimilating two of his chief adversaries, the Oracle and Seraph, with no difficulty whatsoever. And to top everything off, he was going to become a father on the very same day. Things were looking up indeed.

lllll

Several hours later, the delivery had not been going well for Sarah or her unborn child. As the contractions grew stronger, she grew weaker and it was getting more and more difficult to gather the strength she needed to push the child out of her.

"Your blood pressure is climbing," the obstetrician told her, "and we've done just about all we can. We may have to resort to performing a C-section."

Sarah swallowed, tears sparkling in her eyes. Even though this child is Smith's, I can't lose it, she told herself. I cannot go through another miscarriage.

"Do what you have to do, Doctor," she said, "I can't lose…"

"You are _not_ going to lose this baby if I have anything to say about it," the physician said, looking Sarah square in the eye, injecting his voice with the confidence of a competent professional health care giver. He said the calming words that the woman before him needed to hear. Over Sarah's shoulder, he met the cold blue eyes of the child's father. Unseen by Sarah, Smith jerked his chin toward the door, indicating that he wished to confer with the doctor out of hearing range of Sarah.

Before Smith could leave, Sarah grabbed him by the sleeve. Her hand closed over his. "Save the baby, Smith. Please don't let our child die!"

Smith's lips curled in what did not have time to be a smile. You tried to kill my unborn child twice, he thought, looking deep into her eyes. It took the possibility of this baby's death to make you see how much you truly love the life that is growing inside of you.

"You should rest now," he said. "I'll be back shortly." Sarah nodded and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to conserve what little strength she had left to push through the next contraction when it came.

As soon as the two men were far enough out of earshot, Smith spoke. "It is not going well," he said, not asking but stating. "What are her—_their_--chances?"

"Unless we get this child out of her now and stop the bleeding, I don't have much hope for either of them. If a decision has to be made which one has to be sacrificed, which one…?" The physician did not continue, but left the question hanging in silence between the two men.

Smith sighed deeply and turned away so he could think more clearly. He did not care very much for Sarah; he had only married her out of spite, not love. If she dies, then my child will die as well. I have already gone through that loss once; I will not do so again.

_I__cannot_.

Ever since the day my baby with Bronwyn died, I have been wondering what might have been. What colour were her eyes? Would she have taken after me and been tall or would she have been petite like her mother? Putting all curiosity of her appearance aside, I wanted to hold her in my arms, to see her with my own eyes, to feel her tiny hand in mine. I should not have to make this damnable choice that will have negative consequences no matter what I decide, Smith thought angrily.

If I choose to spare Sarah's life, I will have to endure the loss of another child. However, if I chose the life of my baby, then what? I would have to raise the child alone and be forced to subject him or her to a life without a mother, a life without the crucial feminine influence and nurturing that only Sarah could provide. I know firsthand what it is like to be unwanted, deserted, and ultimately abandoned by a mother--must I subject my child a life without the same? Despite her failed attempts to rid herself of our child, I saw in her eyes the fear she has for safety of the baby. She does not want to suffer its loss any more than I do.

Frustrated and snarling like an enraged beast that had been driven to its limits by its enemies, Smith punched a hole through the nearest wall and perversely welcomed the pain that shot from his hand as it connected with the concrete. It took all of his willpower to fight the urge to slam his fist into the shattered wall again and again, to make his physical form experience the agony that was gnawing like a ravenous rat at his emotional processors. Breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against the wall and waited until his grief passed and he was under control again. He knew the doctor was waiting for his decision and he brushed the dust from his hand and turned to face him, his face set like stone and as unreadable.

"Before I give you my answer, I must know: will my wife be able to have more children if she loses this one?"

"She is strong and healthy, Mr. Smith. I see no reason why she can't."

Smith nodded. "Spare the mother's life, Doctor, I…."

As if jolted by electricity, Smith turned his head sharply to the window as he felt his only remaining adversary, Neo, being jacked in. Mr. Anderson, it appears, has struck a bargain with the _Deus Ex Machina_ for the survival of Zion. The cessation of the attack of the army of sentinels has begun, waiting for the outcome of our forthcoming duel. If he fails, Zion will be razed to the ground. If he succeeds against me in battle, the hordes of the many-armed mechanized offensive force will retreat, leaving the humans in peace.

Mr. Anderson has stood face-to-face with Our All-Powerful Omnipotent Creator and is now about to enter the Matrix in an attempt to defeat me, with the Overlord's express permission. I have been betrayed by the very thing that spawned me, Smith thought contemptuously.

I have been abandoned once again, it would seem.

"I must deal with another matter," Smith said brusquely, striding past the surprised doctor.

"You are leaving_ now_? But the surgery is about to commence…" the other man asked incredulously, but Smith ignored him and went to Sarah's side.

"This will not take long. I will return very shortly," he said and she nodded.

"Is it _him_?" she asked.

"Yes. Mr. Anderson is now less than a block away from the doors of this place," Smith replied. He smiled slightly. "It is me he is after, Sarah, not you or the baby." Smith's face hardened into set lines. "You have your orders, Doctor," Smith said, looking over his shoulder. "Proceed as I have told you."

At the last instant, Sarah clutched at his sleeve. Her lower lip trembled. You and I have experienced so much together, she thought, her thoughts a frenzied whirl of memories both good and bad of everything she had shared with the father of her child. There is so much we need to say to one another; I hardly know where to begin. I have seen the worst as well as the best part of you.

"I'm afraid, Smith. I--" she whispered and Smith squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"I'll be back soon, and we can talk about things later, all right?" he said.

The physician sighed very quietly as he watched Smith stride briskly down the hall and he glanced outside as the first rumblings of thunder sounded. He turned from his contemplation of the dark sky and issued the directive he had been given.

"Goodbye," Sarah said, her voice slurring as the anaesthetic began to take effect.

In less than five minutes, Sarah had been prepped for emergency surgery as the skies opened and the downpour began.

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Unable to restrain himself, Smith shoved his hand into Neo's chest with such brute force that even his wrist was inside the digital form of his enemy. Smith watched with a sense of satisfaction and pleasure as his coding overwrote that of the human male with whom he had fought. When the cloning was complete, Smith looked with barely concealed triumph at the last version of himself. Infinitely exhausted from his exertions, Smith panted heavily.

"Is it over?" he asked, his voice cracking; the strain of even doing something as simple as speaking fatigued him. He breathed a sigh of relief when his duplicate nodded, a smirk on his handsome, chiselled features. It was over.

Something was wrong, he could feel it. Something was not as it should be. He stared, horrified, as the clone twitched. No, it cannot be, Smith thought to himself. A maelstrom of thoughts and feeling raced through him, threatening to overload his neural processors.

He watched as cracks began to form in the clone's dark glasses, his face twitching and jerking spasmodically in pain. Having been destroyed once himself by Neo, Smith could feel the agony that his other self was feeling. He covered his eyes from the blinding light as the clone exploded, sending bytes of digitally-created software in every direction.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," he moaned, "it's not fair."

Sarah has just given birth to our child—no, not one but two! I have _two_ sons! This cannot be happening! Not now! I have yet to see my faces of my children! I want to hold them in my arms! For the first time in my life, I have someone who will love _me_! This cannot be the end for me; I cannot die like this—in the middle of this crater, covering in the stinking, reeking offal of humanity.

Smith glanced up at the lines of his other selves and groaned, feeling the disintegration of his coding commencing. The pain was building and cracks were beginning to form in his hand.

_I want to see my sons, to hold them… I cannot die now! Noooo! _

Seconds later, the program known as Smith had been obliterated forever along with every clone he had created. The shock wave of light expanded across the entire Matrix in infinite ripples of light from its centre, filling the night sky with its brilliance until every copy had been consumed, destroyed and driven back into the darkness from whence they came.

The world was free once again and the rain stopped.

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The surgery was over and Sarah was beginning to revive. She was still numb but she knew that all had gone well by the smiles on the faces of the operating room staff.

"Twins!" the obstetrician told her proudly, a broad smile on his face. "This little guy," the doctor indicated to the small bundle he held against his right side, "was a complete surprise! I had no idea he was even there! Nothing came up on the ultrasound. He is a little smaller than the first, but he's perfectly fine."

He frowned in puzzlement as he watched Sarah's face fall in disappointment. New mothers were usually pleased and this one had every reason to be happy; she was alive, weak but healthy, and she was the mother of two perfect baby boys.

"Would you like to hold them?" he asked tentatively.

"No," Sarah said curtly, turning her head away. Smith was gone irrevocably from her life and the Matrix itself. The last thing I need to see are his sons, reminding me by their very presence of what he did to me.

"I don't want to see them," she said angrily. "Take them out of here."


	20. The End and a New Beginning

The End and a New Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix.

Summary: The end to my story. Please read and review!

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"Did you always know?" Seraph asked the Oracle as he and Sati came up to her.

"Oh no, no I didn't. But I believed. I believed."

The trio looked eastward at the beautiful sunrise before them, the sky bathed in colours; it was the beginning of a new day and the beginning of an era without Smith. A time to be happy, indeed.

"Let's go see Sarah and her babies!" Sati said excitedly, tugging at the hands of the Oracle and Seraph.

"All right honey," the Oracle said, smiling. She glanced back at Seraph who had lagged behind them.

"I don't think I should go," he said hesitantly.

"Don't be silly," Sati chided him playfully. "Here," she said placing her hand in his, "you take my hand, Seraph, the Oracle walks too slow."

"So will you, honey, once you get to be my age," the Oracle teased. "Come with us, Seraph," the Oracle said. "I'm sure Sarah will want to see you, too." She extended her hand out to him and he took it; the three of them heading toward the hospital.

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"She had a hard time of it," the head nurse of the Obstetrics wing told them when they arrived. "However, she should make a complete recovery eventually. Would you like to see her?"

Sati walked forward but the hand of the Oracle on her shoulder silently told the little girl that Seraph should be the one to see her first. "We would like to see her babies!" Sati said excitedly. "Where are they? Can we see them?" she inquired with all the innocence and eagerness of a child of her tender years.

"Come this way," the smiling nurse instructed and led the two females toward the viewing area. Sati had her nose pressed to the glass as she watched the two small blue bundles being taken out of their single Plexiglas bassinet.

"You keep the two of them in one crib?" The Oracle asked, perplexed.

"Yes. If one is removed from the other for any length of time, they both cry until they are together again. I suppose they got used to being with one another, after all, they shared the same space inside their mother."

"They are so cute!" the little girl squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands with joy. She took a good hard look at the smallest of the two boys and whispered in absolute awe and wonderment, "Oracle…can you see? It's a miracle!"

"I see," the Oracle said with a smile. I see more than you will ever know, child. This turned out better than I could ever have imagined or foreseen. Miracle? Yes, you may certainly call it that. A potentially ugly situation that would have set Sarah's heart and soul against any child of hers and Smith has been tempered with one blessing no one could have imagined. Now, all is as it should be—an unequal equation in the Matrix has been balanced and put right again.

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Seraph walked quietly into Sarah's hospital room, tentatively approaching the bed in case she was still sleeping. Sarah had her head turned towards the door and her eyes were open.

"Sarah, are you all right?" Seraph whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sarah nodded and held her hand out to him, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"He's gone, Seraph," she said, and Seraph frowned at the expression on her face; this was a time of joy, a time of laughter now that the black blight was gone forever from the Matrix and their lives, however, there were tears in Sarah's eyes. Before he had a chance to inquire further, the door burst open and the Oracle and Sati entered, each tenderly holding a small, swaddled blue bundle.

"Would you like to see them? We know you haven't had a chance yet. We asked the nurse," Sati said, and she frowned in puzzlement and confusion when Sarah shook her head.

"I think you should, Sarah," the Oracle said, a smile twitching at her lips. "You will like what you see, I promise."

"No, I don't think…I don't want to." Sarah said fearfully. The last thing I need or want right now is to hold a reminder of their father, she thought to herself.

"Here, take him," Sati said, almost pushing the baby she was carrying into Sarah's arms. "He's getting heavy."

"No, I don't think…" As soon as she held her son in her arms, the tears she was not able to shed for Smith flowed freely as she held his son. "He's so small," she whispered as she looked into his face for the first time.

"Here, Sarah, this little guy wants to say hello to you, too," the Oracle said. As Sarah strived to hold both little boys in her arms, the older woman held her breath and waited for her daughter to see the miracle that was right in front of her.

"Oh my God, how is this possible? How can this be?" Sarah asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at her two babies and shook her head in wonderment. As she expected, one of the boys had the azure blue eyes of Smith, while the other…did not. All babies are born with slate-grey eyes and while she looked at her younger son, she knew without a doubt that his almond-shaped eyes would turn to the warm brown colour of his father's—Seraph. The Oracle took the younger boy and spoke to Seraph, who had been looking at the floor all this time, ignoring the conversation between the two women; determined not to look at the babies he was certain would resemble the man who had raped the woman he loved.

"No, Oracle," Seraph said, "I don't want to see…."

"Please, Seraph," Sarah entreated, "just take a look."

Seraph reached out, grudgingly taking in his hands the baby the Oracle was holding out to him and his eyes widened in surprise. How was this possible, he thought, completely at a loss for words. Before the Oracle could explain, she glanced at Sati and the young girl understood that there were things the adults wanted to talk about that were not meant for her ears. She skipped out the room happily and when the door closed behind her, the Oracle continued.

"The night before you were raped, Sarah, you were intimate with Smith and then Seraph. Somehow, even I do not know how it happened, but you were impregnated by both men. Your youngest child is Seraph's and the oldest boy is Smith's. All the world comes in pairs and your babies are the proof of it. However, Smith's son need not turn out like his father. If he receives the love he needs and deserves from you, history will not repeat itself." The Oracle smiled as she watched her daughter cuddle her infant boys with equal affection.

The three adults turned when the door opened. The Architect entered the room with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a stuffed teddy bear in the other.

"Two!" he exclaimed as he saw the babies in Sarah's arms. Smith had two sons not just one, he thought, shrewdly assessing the possibilities of future research and development on whichever of them showed the least amount of potential.

"No," the Oracle said sharply. "I know what you are thinking and the answer is no. And in case you were wondering, the oldest is Smith's child and the younger one is Seraph's."

The Architect roiled backwards as the words from his colleague permeated his consciousness. Twins by different fathers, he thought, how can that be? Before he had time to understand what she had told him, the reason for his visit came to the forefront of his mind.

"I came here to offer my congratulations as well as inform you that you are now a very wealthy young woman, Sarah."

"What do you mean?"

"Smith left you everything he had: his car, the contents of his apartment and all the money he had acquired since becoming an Exile."

"I don't want it," Sarah said firmly.

"Sarah, be reasonable. It's all yours, and now that Smith is dead, there are no strings attached of any kind."

"I don't care, I don't want his money. I never did."

The Oracle leaned forward and looked into her daughter's face. "You have two babies to look after. You and Seraph will need a place of your own now. You will need that money; if not for yourself, then for them."

"Fine. I will only take what I need…"

"Honey, Smith used his money for evil purposes. Why not do the opposite and put it to good use? You could help a lot of people."

"How? How can anything of Smith's be used to help people?"

"There are places like women's shelters, for example, that could use the financial help. Women who are on the run from abusive men. I know of a place called 'Harmony House.' It is a place where girls and women who do not have anywhere else to go can stay. Think of the people you could help, Sarah! These lost souls are either poor or desperate and need a safe, quiet place they can call home for a while. Or, if that doesn't suit you, how about giving your money to non-profit call centres that has a toll-free number that kids and teenagers can call when they feel they can't talk to their parents about whatever is bothering them."

Maybe she is right, Sarah thought quietly. I will need some money for myself, but there are people out there who need it as much as I do, if not more. Setting up a foundation or safe-house for battered and abused women would be the perfect way to help those women in need; maybe some of them were past victims of Smith's cruelty for who knows how many girls and women he hurt during the time he was an agent? He was completely free from prosecution from the authorities, although I doubt that many of his victims sought justice or any kind of legal redress, knowing full well that he would probably take his vengeance out on those brave enough to speak out. They also might have feared an even worse violation of their bodies if charges were ever brought against him.

Sarah looked at the Architect and the Oracle quietly conferring together. How many women did Smith rape and beat up because of you both did to him, she wondered angrily. Mother did nothing to stop his pain when he needed her the most, but you, dear Father, what you ordered done to him was monstrous and because of that, he became one. Afterwards, Mother tried to make amends as best she could and in the way she thought would do the most good: helping the rebel humans find "The One" through all six versions of the Matrix.

And you, Father? What did you do? Nothing. Nothing except turn your head aside when Smith broke both our laws and those governing the humans time after time. All you ever cared about was his success at getting the information you required to destroy whatever humans threatened to spoil your precious Matrix.

Her thoughts were disrupted when there was a quiet knock at the door. Seraph, who was closest to the door, went to answer it, his child still in his arms.

"What do you want, Agent Johnson?" he demanded quietly so that no one in the room could hear. To Seraph's surprise, the tall leader of the upgraded agents looked almost sheepish and awkward.

"You have nothing to fear, Seraph," he said softly, "I haven't come here to delete you or cause any trouble. I just came to tell you that we have been given orders to leave you and your family alone. For good. May I?" he asked, indicating that he wished to have a closer look at the baby cradled protectively in his father's arms. Seraph was apprehensive and unresponsive and turned away slightly, preventing Agent Johnson from getting a better look at his child.

"I will not harm him, I give you my word. I just wanted to see him but I understand your reluctance. If I were in your position, I would be as protective as you are." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "When Sarah and I met the last time, she told me to tell you that she loves you." He turned to depart, but was restrained by Seraph's hand on his sleeve.

"It's all right, Agent Johnson. I know what happened between you both before Smith found the two of you…You can see him if you like." Seraph smiled to himself as the leader of the upgrades pulled aside the blue blanket that hid the baby's face from view. He stared at the child for a long time and took one of the small fists that waved at him, holding it gently and Seraph saw him try to suppress a smile when one tiny fist closed around one of his large fingers.

"You don't know how much I envy you, Seraph," he said hoarsely and Seraph frowned in confusion at the tone in the other man's voice. "Take good care of them both, will you?"

"I will," Seraph replied softly. He wasn't sure if Agent Johnson was referring to the two baby boys or Sarah and his child alone. However, he knew that he was now the father to both babies and the surrogate father of Sati. With Smith gone, there was nothing and no one who would come between Sarah and himself ever again. As for the child of Smith, he had done nothing wrong; he was not to be held responsible for the actions of his father and Seraph would raise him as his own.

Now, all that remained for him to do was re-enter the room where the woman he loved was waiting for him; he had a family now and he could not ask for anything more. For the present, Sarah would need time to forget everything, both good and bad, that had happened between herself and Smith.

A short time later, a nurse came bustling into the room, mindful of the need of the new mother to get some rest after her very long and difficult labour, not to mention the operation that saved her life and brought her two sons into the world. Caring for her patient as a hen would tend to her one chick, she briskly but good-naturedly shooed away Sarah's visitors until all was quiet once more.

Seraph turned to go with the others and felt Sarah's hand squeeze his. "Seraph, will you do something for me? Will you go and see if there is anything left? Of Smith, I mean. Could you come back and let me know?"

He was puzzled by her request, but promised to obey nonetheless. There was nothing that Sarah could ask of him that he would not do willingly for her. As he expected when he arrived at the massive crater in the street where both Smith and Neo had met their end, there was nothing left of either of the two combatants who had battled to the death. No trace of the program called Smith that had wreaked so much destruction on the Matrix, remained.

"Good riddance," Seraph muttered under his breath. As he turned to leave, a ray of sunlight glinted off something metallic that was in the very bottom of the crater. Seraph climbed down, curious to see what it was that had caught his attention. He knelt down in the muddy water and knew what it was: the silver tie clip Smith had always worn. He pocketed his find and began the hard climb back up onto the street.

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"There was nothing but this," Seraph said, handing the tie clip to Sarah. She closed her fist around it and began to cry.

"What's wrong, Sarah? Why are you upset? Smith is gone, he won't bother anyone ever again; this is a time of celebration, not sorrow."

"There was good in him, Seraph. It was buried deep inside of him--he never let that side of his nature reveal itself, except to Bronwyn and me. He loved us both, in his own way."

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Six years later…

"Thank you, Smith. You've given me a part of yourself and I will always be grateful." Sarah raised her eyes from the spot where she had buried Smith's silver tie clip years before. At the time she had done it, she had given a lot of thought to where this last reminder of Smith should have its final resting place and decided to bury it at the base of a young oak sapling. Now, several years later, the sapling had grown into a magnificent tree, catching the eye of everyone who entered the park.

The last physical memento of a tormented individual joined forever with the roots of a new beginning. Children will play hide-and-seek around its base. Families would picnic in its shade on hot days. Couples would make love underneath its broad, leafy branches, hidden from sight, perhaps even creating new life, Sarah thought and smiled faintly to herself before turning her attention to more serious matters.

With cold eyes, she looked into her father's face. "All of this, everything he did, YOU are responsible for. I hate you for what you did to him. Do you know how many women, how many people he hurt because of that one small programming glitch you thought was so unnecessary to repair?"

Two small spots of red appeared on the Architect's face as his face flushed with anger. "Your _sainted_ mother is as guilty of abandonment of Smith as I am. Why has she been restored to your good graces?"

Sarah rounded on her father. "She has atoned many, many times over for what she did in the past. How? By helping anyone and everyone who comes to her--it doesn't matter if they are human or program; whatever aid or comfort they need, they can come to her and what Mother can give to them, she does.

As for you, dear Father, all that ever mattered to you was your precious Matrix. You think no more of the humans that provide us with the energy we require than something to be scraped in disgust from your shoe. You see humans and programs as mere cogs in the machinery that keeps this simulated world of yours functioning."

Sarah turned her attention back to the small gravesite. "The Frenchman told me that just before Bronwyn died, she thanked you for raping her. As strange as it may sound, I'm going to do the same. I was wrong to try to harm our child and I am sorry. I look into his face and I see you and me. The best of both of us is in our son, Smith. Seraph and I have raised him as our own and I give you my word that that will never change. I will love him and be there when he needs me—as no one did either for you."

She fondly gazed at her two sons just playing out of earshot. As she had expected, the oldest was the spitting image of his father in almost every way. His eyes, however, were completely different from his sire's. While Smith's eyes had been a cold, hard blue, his son's were warm and soft, like that of the sky on a cloudless day in June. Not only that, he was head and shoulders taller than his younger brother was and much more serious in nature. He didn't smile or laugh much, but it was far more than his father ever did. Being the observant youngster that he was, he knew he was not Seraph's biological child but it did not matter to him; he was loved equally by both parents and he knew it.

As for her son with Seraph, the child could not have been more different from his sibling. Rambunctious and playful in nature, he drew out the seriousness of his older brother and it was common for them to be never far from the other. There were the inevitable fights and squabbles that all siblings share, but their love for one another cemented and bound them together in ways that amazed and astonished their parents.

The evil that had been Smith was erased, and thus far, his son did not share or exhibit any of his father's baser traits. He would be told about his father, of course, but not until he was old enough to understand. The truth could not be kept from him forever; there were still a lot of programs in the Matrix that resented their being taken over by Smith in his failed quest to take over the world they lived in. Sooner rather than later, one of them would take pleasure in taking his son aside and informing the child about the cruel and vicious things Smith had done.

Sarah looked into the eyes of Seraph and took his hand. "It's time to take these boys of ours and leave this place. There has been enough sadness today. Let's go home."

The sharp eye of her mother caught what Sarah had hidden from everyone else that day—her lips twitched and her chin trembled for a moment as she tried to keep her sorrow at bay.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said it best in his best-known Sherlock Holmes story, the Oracle thought: _Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman to mourn him._ For her own reasons, Sarah still grieved for the lost father of her eldest son.

She and Sati followed them, leaving the Architect standing by himself at the gravesite. Knowing that he would not be welcome to join them, he turned away and walked back to his office where he would remain.

Alone.

THE END


End file.
